


Fine Print

by arisanite



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baker!Tom, Baking, Classroom Sex, Contract, Dirty Talk, F/M, Friendship, Light BDSM, Love/Hate, Old Friends, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Teacher/Student, Vibrators, agreement, au!tom, professor!tom, slight dub!con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 177,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arisanite/pseuds/arisanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a Graduate Student taking up her Masters in the classics, and have a love/hate relationship with your friend/Professor. Despite knowing all his secrets, and him knowing yours… You are forced to ask him for help concerning a scholarship, and he replies… by giving you a contract filled with sexual favors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt has been part of a Roleplay between an old friend and I, that I adapted into a short smut fic. I have always been contemplating of writing a smut centered fic for quite a long while now, and I just couldn't get the idea of having a Professor!AU!Tom out of my head.

“ _Whenever you are ready,”_ you hear that commanding voice whisper in your brain. “ _But you have to remember the consequences when you are not_.”

 

You take a deep breath when you finally find the number, that golden plate that says 211. You were thinking of probably standing outside his door for a few more minutes, contemplating if this is even is a good idea.

You still remember how he banged his fist on his desk when he finished reading that proposal for the scholarship you gave him.

You still remember how those thin yet luscious lips pronounced the words “unfair”, “unforgiving”, and “ _douloureux_ ”. It’s true, you have been friends before he even became part of the academe, and you knew how much he pined for you even before you started taking up your Masterals. But that’s not the point…

You knew he used to date his co-worker (who is actually an old friend of yours back in University), and being good friends with Professor Hiddleston, you just knew everything there is to that relationship… even the shady secrets that were left in the bedroom. You were still back in the publication firm at this time, and you had no plans of pursuing your masterals, even though how much that intellectual man prodded you to carry on and advance your career. You were pining for another boy back then, a boy he didn’t know at all. But with the way he smiled when he saw you, the way he licked his lips when you talked, and the way he touched your shoulder when you whine about your “technique” not working with “other guys”… You knew that there was _something_ …

But then, after your breakup with your last douchey boyfriend who didn’t even care about your goals in life, you find yourself enrolling into that 3-year Masteral Course in Humanities… in the same department where your good friend is teaching. He was overjoyed, that was quite obvious, and he even helped you get recommendations from your old teachers in Uni, even including himself in the roster…

You were barely through the first year, when bad things started whirling around your friend in the faculty. That co-worker of his whom he loved so dearly turned out to be pregnant by a man seven years her senior, a well-known entrepreneur in the city… and all her previous affections for your good friend Tom, and everything they ever did in the confines of his apartment, in that summer house in Cornwall, and even in the silence of his study in the faculty building… she would take them to the grave.

Tom threw a fit when he found out that she was breaking up with him.

But it was the eve of your finals and despite swearing not to take up his subjects so not to compromise your friendship and his professionalism, he had offered his services to help train you for your course requirements in Theatre, reciting a romantic line found in _Much Ado About Nothing_ as part of your monologue. You saw the state of his study, newspapers torn apart, his Macbook air dangerously toppled on its side on the carpeted rug, and him… sitting on his chair, hunched up with his face hidden from yours… With his blazer thrown aside, his sleeves rolled up, and those toned muscles stretching out his day shirt…

You remember the tears in his eyes…

And you remember how he composed himself when you tried to cancel the appointment… asking you to take a seat, while weakly trying to set aside and hide the mess he has made…

And you could see the lines on his forehead, and how he tried to concentrate…

Try not to break down…

As you read the words from your book, line for line with him…

And then the unthinkable happened.

You barely even finished the line that you have repeated for the 25th time now, when he suddenly moved closer and pressed his lips against yours. The book you were holding dropped to the floor in a loud thud, as you stood there frozen… As you mindlessly watched him take you in, gently caressing your lips with his, as he passionately showered you with that affection that he had been holding back for… so long?

You tried to forget how that night ended.

How you boldly pried yourself from his embrace, how your hand flew and stung his cheeks, how you coldly apologized right after… before you sauntered sideways in a daze as you picked up the fallen book and your bag in the corner, before leaving him aghast and even more heartbroken than he’ll ever be in that study of his…

 

***

 

It’s been six months.

For some reason, the online project you have been working on closed down, and your parents are in a financial rut and they couldn’t help with the funding for your Masterals. But the year has almost ended, and boy did you work so hard despite having that heavy load… But with your financers gone and your bank account almost empty, a loan was the last thing on your mind and something the University cannot grant since you’re still having issues with recovering your Transcript of Records from your previous College. That’s when you heard about the Rosencratz Scholarship.

This utmost privilege is provided for various students of your university, sponsored by the family of a famous professor who taught in the institution back in the early 50s. The scholarship would be able to cover at least 85% of your tuition, and considering the state of your paycheck and your bank balance… you can barely even pay for food and rent for the next two months if you don’t get your hands on that scholarship.

But it hit you when you read the fine print – the scholarship only caters to the immediate and close family of the faculty, including spouses. Your friend, who realized that you were applying had to point it out to you that it was created by Heinkleim Rosencratz to help his wife finish her studies despite the prejudice against women at that time. You knew that there was only one person who could help you… but you can only feel how your face turn sour when you realize who it was.

Things had been sour for you and Tom ever since that night at the study. Or maybe just for you.

To make matters worse, he pretends that it never happened, still smiles at you when you pass him by in the corridors, and even gave you high class marks during that one debate where he sat in as a part of the grading panelist team. But slightly disgusted and offended about what you often call as the “rebound” kiss, it didn’t help at all that there was one night you went clubbing with your old officemates… And something really peculiar happened that you clearly prefer not to remember, but something you cannot clearly forget.

You probably had too many a shot of tequila and you have been laughing so hard with your friends, but despite your spinning head and the lights blinding you in the club… There was a man on the bar, silently drinking his gin in his corner, who caught your eye. He had this long curly black hair – pretty much your type really, and those eyes that seem to pierce into your soul from a distance. You can’t really make the rest of his face in the dark, but scruffy beard – is enough of a total turn on for you.

So lo and behold…

You flirted…

Got him on the dancefloor…

And grinded with him in the darkness…

And kissed him passionately without any hesitation…

Enjoying how the scrape of that beard made your panties wet…

And your body in need of sensual pleasure…

From this man!

You couldn’t hold back a shiver when he whispered softly in your ear, suggesting that you both go back to his place. With the music pounding in your system, you loved the way of how he growled, and how those soft lips brushed your lobes… You just couldn’t say no.

But the moment you stepped into the lobby, the sight of him made you turn into ice.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the high, or maybe the way he seduced you… but you didn’t realize that the man you have been grinding up against and the man you have been snogging for the half hour was none other than Tom. You clutch at your chest when you realized that he has dyed his hair from blonde to black, and even if this fact turned on a fire deep in your belly… you just couldn’t believe it… and you couldn’t stop staring…

That was the second time you walked out on Professor Hiddleston.

You did dare to look back in your drunken haze and saw the lustful expression in his face melt into something akin to rejection and disappointment as he watched you walk away… The same expression on his face when you slapped him square on the face after he kissed you out of context in the messed up study…

But it wasn’t the expression you found on his face when you nervously turned up in his study one day, with a proposal about the Rosencratz Scholarship…

He eyed you warily, wondering why you turned up all of a sudden after rejecting all his advances and almost cut off all ties. You scramble nervously with your words, saying that he’s “your last hope”, and this would “hopefully put the awkward past we had behind us”… He read through your proposal, your letter, and your request… For him to consider you as a younger cousin, twice removed from his mother’s side… And that you have been studying real hard for the past year, and you have had high marks that even _he_ himself commended. In return, you promise to do the things you usually did for him: Check his papers, do his lectures on your high-end presentation software (since you were an Arts  & Communication major back when you were in Uni), do his school related errands, and anything else he asks of you.

That was when you saw him clutch the side of the three-page document angrily, forming wrinkles in the paper. And then, the loud bang when he slammed his fist down on his desk.

“I can’t—I can’t accept this.” Those were the words that first escaped him. Even the way he whispered your name sounded so sour. “I’m sorry I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” you desperately croak. “We have been friends for a long time, all I ask is this small favor –“

“That is the problem,” Tom whispered. “We have been friends for a long while now… And I have done all I could for you.” He stood up, towering over you, those eyes seemingly desperate for something else. “Do you remember what I did for you? The papers I fixed for your entrance exams? The recommendations? The tips and the advice on the teachers to get? The long hours of helping you study for finals? Everything I can, I would do it for you…”

He bit his lips, eyes slightly welling with tears. “I… I can’t do this.” And with that, he turned around, away from you, and faced his window, pocketing his hands. “It’s just not fair.”

This was when you realize that you blew it. You blew everything with him. You asked for something a bit too much, you just knew he wouldn’t agree… and pretty soon you would be gone from the University Graduate Program anyway. Might as well give up, you thought.

With that, you purse your lips, shrug, and grab your sling bag.

“My offer still stands,” you say out clearly as you make for the door. “But if you really don’t want it, then I’m sorry for disturbing you, Professor Hiddleston.”

And with that, you were gone.

You didn’t see him slightly turn around to look in your direction as you close the door behind you, giving your retreating figure a piercing stare… before his eyes dropping to look at the papers you left on his desk…

 

***

 

A week hasn’t even passed when you dropped by in the University, contemplating your Leave of Absence, when a friend of yours who was in Professor Hiddleston’s class suddenly stopped you in the hallway in front of the Humanities Department, whispering in your ear, causing your eyes to suddenly widen with hope.

You didn’t even hesitate when you ran to his study, but the moment you opened the door… you had to stop in your tracks when he turned around to face you, blue eyes hungry, his look very predatory.

“Close the door behind you,” his words sounded more like a growl than a whisper.

With the way that he said it, and the way he looked at you, you couldn’t deny that a shiver just went up your spine. Taking a gulp, you slowly turn around and close the door, only to have yourself press your back against it when you turn around, only to have him walking towards you… with papers in his hand…

Wait a minute, are those even your papers?

“I did the privilege of editing the Rosencratz proposal contract for you, love,” he said, his tongue rolling on the term of endearment, savoring it as it burned down your eyes. “Mind if you take a read?”

He gestures towards the chair in front of his desk, to which you approach with much caution, as you nervously take the file from his hands, slowly skimming it as you sit on the edge of the sofa-style chair. But the moment you get to the bottom of the seven-page contract, you feel your chest tighten, your breathing shallow, as you try to hide the shock from your face –

“What do you mean by _sexual favors?!!”_ you almost scream at the top of your lungs, but since you couldn’t let anyone else hear about it, the words squeeze themselves out of your gritted teeth.

It didn’t help how you could see the desire in his blue eyes when he gripped the back of your chair and lowered himself so he could look you straight in your eyes. “You do realize what the Rosencratz Scholarship is for, darling,” he whispered, his eyes hungrily staring at your parted lips.

You drop your eyes and remember your colleagues words about the scholarship, “Heinkleim Rosencratz devised the program for his wife –“

“You do realize that you coming to me for help on this sounds just like a wedding proposal, love?” He chuckled as he stood up and you get a clear view of his lean body through that tight white dress shirt hidden under his blazer. “It’s very flattering really,” he whispered, sucking in his breath. “More flattering than what happened at the club one time –“

You tried not to listen to him as you tried to skim through the document further, wincing at the words _fellatio, cunnilingus, roleplay_ and even _ménage-a-trois_.

“This is preposterous,” you bark.

He turns around, eyes livid, as he shoots back, “Declaring that you are my cousin, sweetling, is not enough for them to consider you for the scholarship. In fact, they only truly accept immediate family members, and of course… husbands and wives of the faculty.” He grinned to himself. “In fact, fiancées are already considered. Miss Thornton’s fiancé is actually taking up one of my classes,” he said with a bit of amusement in his voice, causing you to fidget nervously in your seat.

“What do you want me to do?”

He turns his back on you and crosses his arms, holding one hand up as he looked out of his office window. “All you have to do is to act as my fiancée,” he says simply. “Public Display of Affection is necessary, for us to establish the case. This behavior wouldn’t really affect the Code of Conduct among students since you are part of the Graduate program…” He runs a thumb over his mouth. “You are to report to me in this office and in my flat after your classes,” he whispers as he licks his lips. “And of course, you should perform your duties as stated in that contract.”

You gulp. “All of them?”

“Or whatever I may please,” the words rolled out of his mouth just like honey. “But of course, I would stipulate them in that contract. And have you sign it. I will not do it if it’s not written and signed on paper.”

You felt yourself shake as you drop the file on his desk. “This is crazy. This is borderline abuse,” you bark as you turn around, about to make for the door. “I can’t do this.”

You were about to turn the handle when you heard him say, “Do you want the scholarship or not?”

You stop in your tracks as you turn around to see him lustfully grinning in his corner, smiling at you with that grin that just eats shit. You couldn’t even deny how attractive he looked, with that combed back long curly black hair, that three-day old beard, and the way his frames sat on his nose. It seriously was testing the little slut inside of you, and you fucking swear that the contents of the contract just called out to the masochist inside of you, wanting him to do things to you, to have those long fingers sliding against your wet folds, massaging your clit and –

“I want that scholarship,” you say. “But not this way.”

He tore those blue eyes away from yours and said, “Suit yourself. This is the only way…” He looked you from head to toe, a bit of compassion appearing in his eyes as he said, “You don’t seem to be doing fine yourself, love. Have you been eating the right food lately?”

You run a hand on your flat stomach. The truth is, since you were saving up on bills, and on that new blazer that you can wear to the next job interview that was coming up, you weren’t eating as much as you did before. In fact, you haven’t even had any lunch that day. Tom might have even heard it growling while you sat in front of his desk.

“I can take care of myself,” you say bitterly, suddenly feeling sorry for yourself.

“I can take care of you as well love,” he whispered, moving towards you. “And I took care of you before… Why won’t you just let me?” You feel him step towards you as you keep a firm grip on the door, as he nestled his face in your hair, breathing your scent in, as he placed his hands on your shoulder, somewhat calming you down but igniting a fire in between your legs that you never felt before… Well not for him.

“I can promise food and lodging with that agreement as well,” he whispered as he slipped a hand around your waist, somewhat trying to ease the pain in your stomach. “And I promise you nights you will never forget… and a scholarship at the end of the month. If you just agree to this contract…” He removed himself from your embrace, and you somewhat twitch at the lack of contact, as he took your hand and led you back to the desk, opening the document to the last page, where it lacks both your signatures. “And sign right here.”

You looked up at him and you saw it, the same look in his eyes before he kissed you when you recited that passage Shakespeare wrote. That longing look that hounded you for years on end, as you kept on convincing yourself that he’s better off as a friend than a lover… That you’re better off in your separate lives than being tangled in one…

You didn’t know what came over you to actually sign that contract that was swollen with things dirtier than what you can find in the romance novel you couldn’t stop reading back when you were in High School.

 

And there you were, standing in front of his apartment door, hesitating to knock.

Gathering all your courage, you rapped your knuckles on the oak wood before you hear that deep octave of his voice saying, “Come in, the door is open.”

Tonight was the first night as it was stipulated in the contract. The first night when you are to act like lovers, newly engaged ones at the least. He had already seen you in school in the morning, and you had to suck in your breath to how gorgeous he looked, with his long curly black hair trimmed to something fashionable at that time for men, wearing a waistcoat and a white dress shirt, walking around campus like he was the luckiest man alive… Not to mention that he gave you a boxed lunch upon finding out that you still haven’t eaten yet. “I want you to have your energy,” he whispered when he gently shoved it in your hands as you stood in the empty staircase. “You will need it for later.”

And oh boy, you needed it when you opened his door and found him sitting on his sofa, legs crossed, waistcoat thrown aside, sleeves folded up past his elbows, as he had a wanton look in his eyes as he saw you through the doorway.

“Close the door behind you,” he said it gently this time, but you couldn’t misplace the lust in that voice.

You do so, and you were glad you had that fill of the most delicious toast, eggs, and sausages for lunch or else your knees would have been more than wobbly when you stood in front of him, in your casual printed dress and sandals, with a cardigan over your shoulders, looking more of a school girl than what you actually are.

He stood from his seat and walked towards you, his height intimidating you, but making you look with awe up those long legs covered in black slacks… As you trail your eyes up, you see the unmistakable bulge that was obviously hard for you, as you take a gulp and look into those eyes that just burned with a passion you never saw before…

“Are you ready for tonight, love?”


	2. Assignment #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide to fulfill your duties to your contract with Professor Hiddleston on the first day of your "service". Warning: Tons of smut, spanking, some sort of dub-con.

You had barely been in Professor Hiddleston’s flat for fifteen minutes, when you find yourself sitting across him in his decent kitchen counter, having a cup of coffee that he insisted you take before… other pressing matters, once he found out you only had a bagel for dinner despite that scrumptious lunch he prepared for you.

You were half expecting him to lunge at you, shred your clothing off your person, part your legs and take you up against the wall between his bookshelf and his mini bar, with your legs dangling in mid air –

“Is there something on your mind, darling?”

Your eyes snap upwards as you miraculously find yourself still clothed, nervously smoothing your printed dress, as you turned the small teacup around the saucer several times as you cradled your face with an open palm, your elbow resting on his kitchen counter.

“Nothing really,” you whisper, trying to avoid that gaze that obviously stripped you of your garments, savoring the imagination of slowly slipping that cardigan off your shoulders, snapping open the buttons of your dress, dragging that tongue over the exposed skin of your neck --

“I believe your French exam is coming up towards the end of the week?” he suddenly spoke, tearing those lustful eyes away from you.

You roll your eyes, seeing how futile his attempt at casual conversation was, when clearly you are too snarky for your own good since you’re trying to hide the anxiety over the fact that you’re about to get a hard fucking, while he’s attempting to ease the tension despite the palpable air of lust dangling over his head. “Pretty much, that is the plan…” you exclaim, unconsciously playing with a button on your cardigan, not knowing what effects it was doing to your Professor-friend. “But I could have just easily filed for a leave of absence just so I wouldn’t have to deal with this outrageous agreement –“

“Tut tut,” The way he clucked his tongue just showed the minimal capabilities he has with it, sort of painting dirty images in your brain. “You do remember what we agreed upon in the contract, love. Every single time you shoot down and reject my affections, it merits a day of extension in that ‘ridiculous’ agreement we lovingly settled…” he said sarcastically, his tongue rolling on the word _ridiculous_. “And of course, a corresponding ‘service’ – either given by you, or me. Toss coin, sweetling.”

You felt your jaw become slack, as you gape at him with what he just said. With the way he triumphantly grinned and crossed his arms as he sat in his chair, you clench your hand in anger as you realize how this man was turning you on – a man whom you used to recognize as your upperclassman, then a good friend who somewhat fell in love with your best buddy from College… and a man who taught in your University. You saw Tom as an old friend, you knew him as Professor Hiddleston when he enters the lecture hall… but this… this is a whole different person… And he was driving you _insane_ as he just sat in his place, grinning at you in that wanton manner.

“I hate you,” you just spurted out without thinking.

That was the signal. For a moment, his smile disappeared, and those beautiful turquoise eyes became clouded with something… _dangerous_. He unfolded his wallet and took out a coin, twirling it around those fingers… those long slender fingers you never really paid attention to before, but now by just taking a look at those long and graceful digits… You gulp, realizing what else he could _do with them_.

“Toss a coin for that, darling.”

“You can’t –“

“Heads, and you’re it… Tails, and I’m gonna be serviced –“

“This is _insane_ –“

He stopped playfully flipping the coin in the air and catching it, as he pursed his lips, causing you to take another gulp as he glared at you. “It’s only Day One and you’re already being difficult,” The way he even mentioned your name stung, but the authority in his voice just made you quiver in your place. “If you don’t do it, then I will.” He sounded so strict, so foreboding, it seriously sent shivers up your spine. You weren’t even prepared when he finally did a toss of the coin, letting it spin twice in midair before catching it and turning it over the back of his left hand… Those blue eyes still glaring at you as he removed his palm from it… revealing the face of the coin.

He whistles long and low, seemingly sounding like a mating call from a sex god.

“Well aren’t you a lucky girl,” he said with much ardor in his voice as he licked his lips hungrily when he showed it to you. “ _Heads_.”

You shook your head as you found yourself pushing your empty cup away when you got on your feet, clutching your hands as you watched him stand up from his seat in one fluid motion, towering over you with his breathtaking gait, leaving you frozen in place.

“Sit,” his tone was deep and commanding, something that shattered your resolve, awakened the rebel in you, but nonetheless made your insides quiver with need.

“No –“

Next thing you know he has gently pushed you back on the wooden chair, falling down on his knees as he nudged your legs apart, stretching that beautiful dress your sister-in-law bought for your birthday last year. Despite being on his knees, you found him smothering your face with kisses, muting your squeals and protests as his hands were suddenly all over you, leaning conveniently despite his compromised position on the floor, aching to tear your clothing off your person –

You felt the fever kick in as shivers overcome your body when he removed his lips from your mouth, wrapping them around your chin for a while, before slipping his tongue in between the opening of his mouth… dragging it from your jaw to that sensitive spot underneath your neck –

“Stop!” you found yourself scream as you felt your whole body stiffen, as you felt him remove his wet mouth from your neck, glaring at you when he retracted himself from your face.

You couldn’t understand how you felt –

With the way his raspy beard scraped against the slope of your neck…

When you felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to wet a spot on your jaw…

Or even the way he glared up at you that moment, gritting his teeth as if he wanted to devour you alive…

“Let me just ask you one more time, _sweetheart_ ,” the way he said the term of endearment burned like hot water boiling inside a kettle. “Do you want to continue with our agreement or not?”

You stop squirming and look away, into the dim light coming from the bulb above you as you stared into it, your eyes blurring for a moment, as you come to terms with your goals and aspirations, avoiding his gaze as you try to catch your breath, letting his words sink in…

“Do remember,” he whispered in your ear now, moving from his spot as you feel that beard scrape against your earlobe. “If you do pull out of this contract… you pull out of the Scholarship Program Proposal List as well…”

Blinking, you find your resolve.

Tearing your eyes from the light, slightly dazed having to stare into brightness, you look into his eyes with a newfound fire, as you pushed him off you with one quick movement, even surprising himself when you discover your strength as you whisper, “What do you want me to do, Tom?”

There was this new spark in your eyes that left the Professor a little bit confused… but nonetheless igniting the want and need for you as he studied the expression on your face.

He licked his lips and leaned back, still kneeling on the floor as he gave you a full-view of his well-built torso, his muscles stretching that white dress shirt.

“How about we relax and help you with your French exam?” he said, a cheerful smile breaking on his handsome face.

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at – Ooof!”

He suddenly hauled you from your seat and set you on the kitchen counter, your stomach flat against the marble tiles. You couldn’t deny how afraid you felt since you couldn’t hide your “tough girl act” anymore once he realizes that your laced lingerie is soaked after that discussion you had earlier… not to mention how he sucked the life out of your lips –

You felt a gasp escape your lungs when he quickly raised your skirt and exposed your buttocks… Your inner lips tightening the moment he ceased his rough movements only to gently run those hands on the smooth surface of your rear cheeks…

You heard him moan as those fingertips danced over your ripe flesh… Eliciting a small gasp from you when he lightly grabbed a cheek, his nails leaving half-moon crests on your wanton flesh…

“My my my love,” he said as he sucked in his breath as he continued caressing your rear mounds. “These tight dresses and those office slacks hide too much from me… You are the little present I never expected…”

You hear him lick his lips again, an annoying mannerism really.

“How about you repeat after me as you enjoy this moment of my hand on your rear,” he said naughtily, kneading your cheeks. “ _J'ai besoin de votre contact…_ ”

A frown appeared on your face as you find yourself gripping the edge of the counter, thinking about how ridiculous you looked, bent over with a grown man kneading your butt cheeks. But you couldn’t see him smiling, waiting patiently for you to reply as he repeated the phrase again, but this time in English… “ _I crave your touch…_ ”

“ _Répéter?_ ”

“ _C'est stupide,_ ” you say through gritted teeth as you turned to look at him, somewhat telling him that you are not to be treated lightly.

That was when you saw his eyes become clouded with that rage of passion. Or was it anger?

You found a loud gasp escaping your lungs when he suddenly brought a hand down on one of your cheeks, causing you to jerk upwards as he held you down on the counter with one arm… The sound of the slap still ringing in your ears as you feel your face heat up, feeling embarrassed by the act… but somewhat feeling so ridiculously aroused when he smoothed his strong hand over the spot he just slapped…

“ _Répéter,_ ” he growled causing you to grip the kitchen counter.

A small voice escaped your mouth… “ _J-J'ai besoin de votre c-contact…”_

Another slap was brought down your rear, causing a shiver to go through your body as you close your eyes, withstanding the pain and unwittingly savoring the feeling of heat spreading through your right cheek.

“Louder!” Tom grunted as he kept the hand on your rear.

“ _J'ai besoin de votre contact!_ ” He slapped you again, seemingly unsatisfied.

“Again!” he exclaimed, his breath hitching, clearly letting you know how much he is enjoying this.

“ _J'ai besoin de votre contact!_ ” He brought his hand down once again.

“ _J'ai besoin de votre contact!_ ” And you were spanked once more.

“ _J'ai besoin de votre contact!_ ” Slap!

You can feel him putting his entire weight on your body as he held you down, his other hand freely coming into contact with your exposed flesh, completely asserting dominance as he craved for intimacy --

“ _J'ai besoin de votre contact!!!!!_ ” You finally scream, perfecting your pronunciation, shutting your eyes as it was stinging with tears, causing you to lay limp on the counter, listening to him catch his breath as he gave your right cheek a tight squeeze before smoothing his hand over it and letting it go.

As you pant in your compromised position, you suddenly sag under his weight as he presses himself against you, bending over your body so he can run his tongue against your lobe, somewhat teasing you of what was to come next.

“Well done my love,” he whispers as he slowly grinded himself against you, as you try to keep your balance over the table. “I believe you deserve a reward…”

You shut your eyes in absolute frustration when you feel his hands move from the small of your back towards your underwear once more… gently running those long digits against the slit of your sex as he looked for that bundle of nerves that has been giving you trouble ever since you walked into his apartment –

“Ah yes,” he whispered as he gave your clit a little nudge, causing you to jerk against the marble surface. “This is just perfect –“

You feel his other hand gently caressing your neck, having his arm hooked from under your left armpit, as you squirm against his hand stroking between your legs, half of your mind wanting him to get his motherfucking fingers away from your cunt, and half of your subconscious begging him to make you feel things you have never felt before… Considering that no boyfriend of yours ever dared pleasure you with their fingers… And you only shut your eyes in horror realizing that Tom would be the first…

“What a gorgeous liar,” he hisses in your ear as he coats his long finger with the juices seeping in your black lingerie. “You tell me you don’t want this but here you are… wet and dripping… For me? Oh darling, you have no idea how flattered I am –“

Before you can even retort, you feel him part your undergarments aside, his fingers nudging your entrance, making them slick with your dripping juices as he massaged his way towards your clit once more…

A soft squeal escaped your mouth as his fingers find your mouth, gently tracing them with the same way he circled your clit with his other finger…

You hear his labored breathing, not to mention how he desperately smeared his lips on the side of your face, dousing this wanton act with passion you didn’t want to identify with… realizing how much he must have holding back with this… Every time he saw you, every time he looked at you, every time you spent time with him in his study, every time you spent your days apart when you dared to cut contact with him…

“I never thought you’d want me this way…” the desperation in his voice was so evident, you couldn’t deny it both disgusted you and aroused you in another way.

Talking around his finger now inserted in your mouth, you sneer, “I never dreamed of ever wanting you –“

However your words were suddenly cut short as a moan escaped your lips, when he finally drove his slick and coated finger into your depths… allowing your tight walls to close around him, causing him to hollow his mouth and whistle the moment he slipped his digit into you.

“Baby, you’re so tight,” Tom moaned, painstakingly sliding the finger out before driving it in again, causing you to yelp against his finger in your mouth.

Unable to speak when he inserted another finger between your lips, you could only moan as he did this rhythmic motion of slowly jerking his finger inside of you, before slowly pulling it out… before repeating the process again. You felt your thighs jerk against his, fighting to find a comfortable spot despite his gentle and slow thrusting, causing you to emit a small yelp when he introduced another finger into you… canting his digits to hit the right places inside of you…

To make matters worse, he removed his fingers from within your mouth and was using his whole hand to slightly turn your head towards his, as he desperately kissed you… Inserting his tongue inside your mouth as he slowly fucked you with his fingers, allowing you to moan into his mouth as your body responded with much ardor to his every move, every thrust of his finger, every kiss of his lips, and every way he touched you…

In the middle of his haunting moan, you can feel your walls contract as you feel his fingers escalate their motion inside of your folds, thrusting faster and harder than how he first started. Your lips suddenly free from his, you find yourself pressing your face against the cold marble surface of the counter as you gasp repeatedly, feeling yourself close to an orgasm –

“Oh aren’t you close, honey?” he suddenly spoke, those blue eyes clearly livid with lust… when he cruelly retracted his fingers from within you, before gently turning you over… panting and out of breath, as you faced the ceiling… Your dress wrinkled and soaked with sweat and your juices, as you find yourself completely exposed to your dirty-minded Professor… who has began to lick your juices off your finger.

You turn red as you watch him kneeling on top of you, one knee perfectly balanced on the wooden chair where you sat earlier, as you find yourself dripping and exposed in front of him… His handsome visage of running his tongue down his coated fingers as he kept his blue eyes focused on you, as he wantonly watched his prize still leaking with her natural lubricant all over her swollen lips.

But you were angry, having been so close and denied of your orgasm. You prop your elbows up to grit your teeth at him, ignoring the beads of sweat forming over your forehead due to the _activities_ you have been doing… on his kitchen counter.

“Vous êtes injuste,” _You are unfair_ , you say through gritted teeth.

He suddenly smiles… that shit eating grin that made some of your classmates melt when he shoots them from across the corridor. You felt your insides quiver as he retracts his tongue from his fingers still glistening with your fluids… as his free hand travels downwards, towards that large, obvious bulge being held back by his slacks.

Now you have been dating Asian boys lately, and you have had this notion that “it’s not about the size, but how you use them,”… but honestly you just have this unsaid fear about European men… and their girth. Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to date Tom? Maybe, but honestly a part of your brain just told you how much you have been missing. However, the moment he unzipped his slacks and freed that rock-hard erection, you felt your eyes widen in both shock and anxiety as you watched him seduce you by coating his cock with the juices still found on his fingers…

“You like what you see?” he growled as he twirled his fingers around his head, causing you to cross your legs in reply. “Oh I think you do…”

You look away, just trying to think of how he was going to stretch you with that girth. You felt yourself shake as you try to fight his hand from prying your legs apart, as he positioned himself at your entrance, licking his lips as he eyed you from head to toe… wanton and ready.

“Why are you looking away love?” he whispered, his voice sweet and gentle, even if you said in your mind that he was just feigning it. “This is the highlight of our contract,” he said in gasps. “The pinnacle of our agreement…” He lowered himself towards you to kiss your cheek with his cock still at the ready, pushing gently against your folds. “You should watch and see how our contract is fulfilled.”

You ironically shake your head at him, seemingly disagreeing with the entire thing. “You are unbelievable,” you sneer back at him.

However, those deep blue eyes filled with passion and a hint of anger with what you just said seemed to retort back at your words. “Je veux juste vous si mal,” _I just want you so bad…_ he said in a seductive manner, in a hushed tone that sent shivers down your spine when you feel the head of his cock in a single jerk as he seems to thrust in an attempt to enter you –

You suddenly gasp, only to find him gently thrusting… without driving his cock completely into you.

You watch painstakingly as he jerked his hips towards yours, his cock making contact with your entrance, but never penetrating. Even so, as he did it… he continued coating himself with your juices, as you continue to drip with those fluids with every thrust he makes.

You wince, the arousal building from your center… Not that it didn’t help that he almost made you cum earlier with just his fingers.

“What –“ you say through gritted teeth as you feel him nudge himself against you again, his erection grinding against your bundle of nerves every single time. “What the fuck are you doing, Thomas,” you spat at him, as he let out a gasp, before thrusting his shaft against your entrance again, his fluid-coated cock bumping against your thigh as he held himself back from thrusting fully into you.

“Making sure –“ _Thrust._

 _“_ That you are –“ _Thrust._

“Ready…” _Thrust._

The need was starting to fill your center, and whenever you looked up at him… The way his brow was furrowed as he kept on holding back as he thrust against your entrance, the way he gripped your hips, half begging for you to give the signal for him to enter you, the way beads of sweat formed on his forehead and dripped across that chiseled face… You wonder what has taken over your sweet and gentle friend who has always been supportive, always been your sound of reason, always been gentlemanly and friendly… to be overcome with lust this way…

You suddenly find your hand smoothing up his taut chest, as you traced the contours of his torso… only for you to snap a button apart when you pulled at his dress shirt, partially exposing his firm chest.

He suddenly caught your eye, as he stopped thrusting, realizing that maybe… you were waking up from your rebellious streak as you slowly accepted this contract in your head…

He knew you were a fast learner, having discussed and edited your paper on Homer in less than a day… But he never knew you would be so headstrong when it comes to sexually wanting him… or maybe even falling in love with him… As a sort of sadness seemed to form in those magnificent eyes, you realize that he must have just been waiting for you to say it… To say what you want.

“I need you to say it,” he said between labored breathing, as you feel your insides ache for his length, when you feel his thrusting stop. “I need you to say it and I will completely seal our deal.”

You grip on his shirt tighter, letting the other buttons pop, now completely exposing his lean physique. “Say what?” you glare at him as you gripped him by his shirt, pulling his face closer towards you. “Say what, Tom?” You growl.

“ _J'ai besoin de vous à l'intérieur de moi,_ ” he said breathlessly.

A shiver went through your spine when you recognized the words. _I need you to enter me_.

You wince, unable to admit the truth… That despite all those years you loved his company, that you are quite the sapio-sexual you are, enjoying the minutes you exchanged ideas, theories and words… Oh and especially when he spoke in different languages… You savored every moment… But there was one fear, that one great fear of entertaining the thought of getting intimate… or even falling in love with him…

That’s when the thrusting started again.

“You have to say it,” he repeated, breathlessly. “Or else I will keep on teasing you like this…”

You started to squirm against him, unable to hold it any further. You knew you would not find your release unless his fills you, stretches you, canting his gifted girth within your tested walls, but at the rate that he’s doing… you don’t know if you could hold any longer either…

And there was something in his face… The painstaking agony of withholding himself for you, to make sure that you are properly lubricated before completely stretching you… And you could see how he was slowly draining himself of energy… You suddenly felt a gentle spot of pity for the man as he continued to try and pleasure himself, but not getting there at all…

You take a deep sigh as you grip his hips and whisper the words he want to hear.

Those puppy dog eyes were at a loss when he heard you whimper instead. “Love?” he inquired, wondering if you were still alright.

“ _J'ai besoin de vous à l'intérieur de moi,_ ” you whisper softly.

You open your eyes to find a new drive awakened in his eyes as you feel him grip your hips even harder. “What did you say, darling?” He repeated.

“ _J'ai besoin de vous à l'intérieur de moi,_ ” you say it more clearly now, lust clouding your eyes as you look up at him, begging for him to enter you in one swift stroke.

There was a glint in his blue eyes when he opened his mouth again, chest heaving as he stopped thrusting, positioning his shaft against your sensitive spot. “Louder,” he growled, the sexual animal within him alive again.

“J'ai besoin de vous à l'intérieur de moi!!!!!!” you felt yourself exclaim as he gritted his teeth and thrust himself inside of you, completely filling you to the hilt, causing you to slide back against the counter as he gripped your shoulder, almost collapsing on top of you with your bodies finally connected.

A gasp was pushed out of your system as you watched him catch his breath, those blue eyes admiring the way you were both joined… Aroused with the way your bodies are still fully clothed, despite you having torn his dress shirt apart, and him having unbuttoned your dress from the top, revealing a breast in the process.

But the heat within you was building, and as he marveled and savored the moment of your unity, you needed to reach your climax, since you know you couldn’t last soon.

You try to jerk your hips against his, to create friction between the two of you so he could hit your sensitive spots… But he gripped your hips in a stationary position, refusing you to move at all, as you squirmed helplessly against his hold. It didn’t help at all that he throbbed within you, even escalating the need for him to fuck you relentlessly…

“You are crazy,” you grunt, pulling at his shirt and gripping on his toned arms. “You get in my pants but you refuse to finish the job?” You exhale, wanting to be taken in. “Goddamn it, Thomas,” you moan, causing his jaw to become tense. “ _Fuck me_.”

He grabs your hand that kept on pulling on his shirt, his blue eyes burning down holes inside your soul as he stared you down.

“Can’t you hear me?” It was more of a plea than an insult. “ _Fuck me,_ Tom.”

In reply, he suddenly grabbed your hair and tilted your head towards him… exposing your mouth that has been swollen with kisses, and your neck where markings made by his teeth were starting to show. “All you need to do is ask,” he groaned before capturing your lips, giving you a long and sensual liplock, before his jaw went slack, allowing you to breathe and he suddenly pulled his shaft halfway out between your walls… before slamming back in with a fierce thrust.

You never have screamed that loud in your life.

His other hand went slack as he released your hair as he repeated the same motion in between your legs, as he guided his fingers slowly towards your exposed breast, fingertips slowly circling a nipple. He was busy sucking your face, as you found yourself kissing him back with much fervor, when you suddenly feel your insides heat up when he took your nipple in between his fingers, pinching them till it turned into a hard bud under his touch.

He never ceased pumping his cock in between your legs as he suckled on your mouth, running his tongue against your lips, before quickly leaving a wet trail from your chin to your neck… pulling in a bit of flesh between his teeth as he continued fucking you mercilessly, causing you to arch your back against his kitchen counter.

You throw your head back and savor the sudden influx of sensations… His shaft pulling in and out of you in one slick movement, his hand gripping your hips… and his mouth now wrapped around your breast, swirling his tongue repeatedly around your hardened nipple, causing a warm bubble to flow within your center… the tension slowly spreading in your thighs.

“I…” You breathe in between kisses. “I… I’m so close,” you whimper as you feel him canting his hips to even reach the deeper parts of you, as he savored the way your walls contracted around his cock.

You grab his head from your breast to look in those eyes, hazy with lust, jaw slack with ecstasy… as he tried to look into your own, trying to absorb what you were trying to say to him as he pressed his forehead against yours…

“I’m so close too, darling,” he said breathlessly as his thrusts became frantic, causing you to throw your head back as you screamed… unable to hold your orgasm back as you arched your hip upwards, your body shivering with the aftermath of the blinding white haze that went through you… As all of your senses blank out, your climax drowning out all the sound, filling your head with a din that stopped the world for you and your newfound lover…

It wasn’t long until Tom brought a fist down on the marble surface, crying out as his own orgasm took him, your body milking him for what he’s completely worth… as he filled you with his seed, the warm juices flowing within you… making you feel wetter than ever.

He collapsed on top of you as his thrusting slowed, his hips slightly rolling as his orgasm escaped him. You turn your head to the side, still panting… as you felt him gently plant butterfly kisses from your chest… to your collarbone… to your neck… and landing one on your chin, before he gently took your face in and trapped your still swollen mouth in a liplock.

You didn’t see him smile when a relieved sigh escape your lips once he disengaged.

“You see love,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead. “I told you, this contract isn’t that bad…” Without disengaging himself from your body, he rested his head on the cold counter surface beside yours, as he lovingly memorized your features… your face and your expression after coitus. “In fact,” he whispered, his lips gently brushing against your earlobe. “This contract may just bring us the intimacy we both crave…”

You turn to him, your cheeks still pink with that post-coital flush, as you glare at him… realizing despite the gentle and firm demeanor of a teacher, a wild sexual animal was hiding inside of Tom. “That’s what you think…” you say, closing your eyes as you look away.

“Oh love.”

He presses his forehead against yours as you both keep silent, sprawled on top of the kitchen counter, with a sheen of sweat covering your still clothed bodies, bodies still entangled in a romantic embrace. “I could say that this proposition started out just fine…”

Without opening your eyes, you feel him move closer as he whispers, “And maybe… just maybe… With this experience we can remain as lovers… even without that contract binding us.”

Your eyes suddenly shoot open as you ignore that sweet smile forming on his face, as you hear your heart starting to beat with a loud and distinct drumming thundering in your chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this fic is based on a complex and detailed RP, I am wondering if I would continue from here... or I would have to create a completely different fic that details the characters more. I do consider this as a side fic since I am currently working on a main fic that is ongoing. 
> 
> Will still try to decide whether I would continue the Prof!Tom series. Most likely I will. Or maybe I'll continue from here.
> 
> To everyone who enjoyed "Fine Print", you have my utmost gratitude. <3


	3. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try not to be overwhelmed by this contract you share with Tom. And with this, you mentally set your boundaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best if read while listening to Massive Attack’s “Paradise Circus”. Fine Print is back! Will slowly continue this fic. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed this!

_“Maybe we can remain lovers… even when the contract ends.”_

 

It was the third night of the contract.

Or the fourth, you have lost track.

 

A thick mist was emerging from your tea as you sit in front of your professor-friend’s kitchen counter, as you sit on a tall stool… dressed only in his white polo shirt.

You take a deep breath as you can smell Tom’s scent on your body, half giving you the shivers… and half giving you a shudder of disgust.

You take a sip of your tea, letting the tang of the Earl Grey slip into your mouth, as you stare at the marble surface of the kitchen counter, remembering that this was the place where he first took you… took your body… took away all your inhibitions on the first night of the contract… As he undressed you, ripped you off your clothes, like a child opening his long-awaited present during Christmas Day…

You sigh exasperatedly as you remember how you had to cover up that visible love bite on your neck during the day of your job interview… that happened to be on the day after your first night of the contract.

You even found yourself snorting in complete irony when Tom managed to even make it swell twice its size the next night after dinner.

You found yourself sighing out loud in a miserable manner once more.

If there was one thing you liked about your friend (turned fuck buddy), is that he was considerate.

Tom has always been considerate. He was considerate when you first met him, when you accidentally stepped on his toes in the tube when you thought he accidentally grabbed your buns. When in fact, the cabin just did an awkward lurch and he ended up being pushed in your direction. He was considerate that day when you found out that he was in a relationship with your good mate, and you accidentally let out to your friend in front of him that he seemed like a playboy… He was considerate enough to smile back at you in such a jovial manner that you actually found him to be a kind and patient man.

He was considerate when you forgot that you borrowed his copy of Richard the III for over a year (since you actually lent it to your niece when she had this Shakespeare monologue project in Junior High), he was considerate when you accused him of cheating on your best mate when they broke up. He was considerate that day when you slapped him in the face when he accidentally confessed his affections for you in a form of a kiss…

In fact, Tom was being considerate now after everything that has happened…

As much as you felt sore and completely helpless when he explored your body during the first night, you gained respect for the man who made an adjustment to your Rosencratz Contract in your presence, stipulating that you had the power to withhold and deny sex when you do not feel like doing it, and when he feels that it is not consented.

He stated in the fine print that you had the right to refuse his sexual advances but only in three conditions:

  1. Clear statement that you are not consenting to intercourse.
  2. Implied body language before the statement (that can be sensed on his part)
  3. The use of a safeword



He gave you the freedom to choose a safeword, and you found yourself in silence for almost fifteen minutes as those turquoise eyes watched you with much amusement as you sat across him, deep in thought, as if he savored every moment and every second you spent with him. However, despite being deep in thought yourself, you suspected that he was probably undressing you with his eyes as you spoke…

You chose the word “ _petrichor_ ”, something you picked up from watching too much Doctor Who. “ _The smell of the ground after rain_ ”… seeing as this reminded you to be grounded during a sexual encounter such as this.

But that has been your greatest resolve and your biggest challenge when it comes to him: _Control._

You have been lucky to have evaded his libido for the past few days.

In fact, the poor thing had been so tired for nights on end after checking a mountain load of mid-term papers. The snuggle you both shared that was supposedly pre-coitus – after you gave him the best head you could deliver a man during your waking days… turned into an embrace where he suddenly fell into sleep, with you still tangled lovingly in his bare arms.

Sure, he has stripped you off your clothes as you found yourself acting as the unwilling participant of his kinky games… but despite the half-truth in the anxiety you were somewhat feigning, you felt your entire body sank into a rhythm of some weird relaxation the moment Tom started planting those small, soft butterfly kisses on your bare chest… before slowly wrapping his lips on your breasts… suckling on one nipple after the other.

You were guilty about the fact that you almost fell asleep yourself… Parting your lips as you didn’t notice a small groan escape your throat as your mind focused on that talented tongue that circled slowly, painstakingly round and round on that hardened nub…

It felt good, as much as you hated to admit it.

It made you wet, as much as you wanted to pretend that it didn’t.

You both probably realized that the two of you had a tit fetish, but you pushed that possible fact at the back of your mind as you allowed him to grip your wrists as he pinned you down, and continued taking in your rosy tits in between his teeth as he scraped the sensitive tip over and over again with the roughness of his tongue…

When he was tired of playing with you… you decided to take on the reigns without him having to flip a coin, just so you can _take control_ for once… and possibly trick him into giving up on the sexual conquest for the night… Since you didn’t want to get used to losing yourself to him over and over again… Even if you knew that it was what the contract was all about… and it was something you could not avoid…

So as you ran your delicate fingers along the length of his exposed shaft…

That cock whose length and girth you tried to deny…

As you listened to him moan your name out gleefully as he watched you take the tip of head in your mouth…

As you felt him squirm under your touch, bucking his hips to every dip of your mouth…

As you felt him whimper when you traced the contour of his sacs in your mouth with your tongue…

As you felt him gently tangle those long graceful fingers in your hair as he repeatedly fucked your mouth till he had to pull you away to stop himself from giving into his climax…

…you tried to remind yourself that _you were in control_. He may have the contract and the authority, but you were going to get your scholarship in the long run. Your heart and your feelings belong to you. It was completely under your prerogative whether you were going to fall in love with him or not.

And you knew you were strong enough not to.

No matter what Tom may say with those marvelously delicious words of his.

 

You unfold your arms as you watch your thoughts float away with the mist from your tea that is slowly becoming cold.

You sigh as you remind yourself that one of these days you would have to give in to having sex with Tom… or “making love” as he insists… even if you know it mostly a one sided thing… And you refuse to think otherwise. But you cannot avoid it completely, considering that it is a major part of the contract… and it means so much to him. And you know it just isn’t right for you to abuse the safe word… he would eventually notice, and somehow you felt sorry for the man…

Despite everything, you do admit… he is quite a good lover…

He was the first man to make you feel the fireworks you didn’t want to feel at all. In fact, you try to erase the memory of your first shared orgasm with him, and you grit your teeth just thinking about it. The thought of experiencing it again and losing yourself in his presence… You bite your lip with a bit of shame as you think about it…

“Darling?”

You open your eyes as your thoughts were interrupted, as you turn around towards the direction of the sleepy voice that emerged out of nowhere.

Tom sauntered from his room, seemingly stirred from sleep, as you suck your breath in, having seen him only clad in his gym pants… giving you a clearer view of his sculpted abs and muscled arms, something you never imagined he would posses upon wearing those polo shirts and blazers almost every single day at work.

“You’re awake,” you spoke, trying to hide the exasperation in your voice. “Would you like some tea –“

“No need to bother yourself, sweetheart,” he said in that bedroom voice that made the hairs at the back of your neck rise. “Stay where you are… Let me look at you…”

Despite being roused from sleep, he moved gracefully towards you as he ran his hand on your arm and up your shoulder, as he sleepily surveyed your face in the dim lights of the kitchen. “You look gorgeous, love,” he whispered. “Especially when you’re dressed in my clothes…”

You felt yourself clutch the wooden stool you were sitting on as he pressed himself against you, making you feel those uncomfortable shivers that stirred that warm ball of lust in between your legs. The air was trapped in your lungs as he tangled his fingers in your hair, as another hand tipped your chin upwards, forcing you to look upon those lust-filled blue eyes… that gazed at you adoringly.

“Hasn’t anyone told you that you look exquisite?” he whispered, his voice deep, low, and positively seductive.

“No,” you answered honestly.

Well he was the first one who said it anyway. Most of the boys you have been with never used such words like this. Such passionate words.

“Well, I must be lucky to be the first then,” he breathed, his taut chest heaving as he moved closer towards your face, as you suddenly found yourself studying the contour of his face, how his jawline was beautifully framed by those short curls, and how those cheekbones brought out his eyes…

“Not even a thanks?” he asked coolly, ignoring the way you shivered at the sound of his voice.

“You can just _kiss me_ ,” he commanded as you felt his lips mark your own cheekbones, as you gasped against his bare chest.

“Wait –“

He cradled your head when you tried to retaliate as he moved his lips against your cheek, threatening to swallow your own mouth whole.

“ _Make love to me…_ ”

You took a deep breath and spoke.

“ _The smell of earth after the rain has fallen_ …”

You open your eyes to find him staring at you, still locked in that seductive embrace… But as you peered in his eyes, you saw something else… Pain, disappointment, and a bit of rejection. For a moment, you thought you were holding a rejected puppy, who was about to be kicked out of his home by a master whom he loved so much. He retracted his face from yours, his lips still aching for that kiss…

“ _Petrichor_ ,” Tom whispered.

He tore his eyes from yours and looked down, as he nodded.

For the first time, you felt your heart sink.

You warned yourself about this feeling. This was that warmth in your chest you promised yourself that you wouldn’t feel. But still you found yourself moving involuntarily against your will, as you raised a hand and ran your fingertips against his jawline, as he gently looked into your eyes… as you found yourself drowning into that abyss of blue…

“I understand,” Tom whispers, accepting your decision.

“I can accommodate that kiss though,” you whisper, as your eyes flicked from those lips to those eyes bluer than the bluest sea you have ever seen.

For a moment, he stared at you, as if he was appraising your words. You allowed yourself to be drowned in his eyes, giving him a bit of what he truly wants… even just this little bit. But then you weren’t prepared for the gentle smile that spread across his face… and that delicious mouth…

 _Control_.

This was the word that rang in your mind.

_Control yourself._

The words that spoke into your head as you let him sink his lips against yours.

_You are in control._

You wrapped your head around these words as you felt him slip his tongue slowly and painstakingly in between your lips… only to take in your lower lip in between his teeth, gently tugging as a gasp escaped your mouth.

_Control yourself from falling._


	4. Study Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its your finals, and you're having problems trying to focus with your studies. Tom decides to help... but he has studying techniques that are completely... unconventional.

It’s barely fifteen minutes in your finals exam, but you just couldn’t concentrate.

You were there, on your seat, in a class of probably just ten people, trying to answer a question that had you comparing Dionysius to one of the lesser gods of another mythology… but you couldn’t stop crossing your legs or crossing your arms to somewhat cradle and subtly squeeze your aching breasts that were obviously… still swollen after… things that have happened.

It’s finals week. What else would you expect?

Even the undergrads you’ve been hanging around with in some of your classes are busy reviewing, frequenting expensive coffee shops as they did group studies, debating over topics that ranged from Calculus, to Economics, to Politics, to Plato, to what-have-you.

Of course, you went through all that trouble back when you were in Uni yourself. As a Graduate Program Student focusing on Humanities, you clearly had to do more work than the ordinary, coffee-hoarding, beer chugging, undergrad you once were. As your Classics Professor who was old enough to retire in two months would say, “You have to raise the bar since you’re not in College anymore.”

But just like those happy-go-lucky (and fortunate, as you would think of them) undergrads, you do have a review strategy of your own for the finals… all though it wasn’t really _your_ idea in the first place.

And obviously, this is the reason you can’t concentrate in the middle of question #s 2 and 4.

You find yourself gripping the edges of your small wooden class table as you try to remember how to write the words in Greek… when recalling the way how the letters were written is torture enough. It’s not that you don’t remember, but it’s the _way_ you _remembered_ them…

 _It’s all Tom’s fault_ , you thought as you wipe the sweat from your brow and you write down your answer on your paper, your pen scraping down too hard to a point it may have left indents on your table. _Why did he have to take that contract all too seriously…_

It was his fault indeed. After all it was his suggestion.

You would actually be so grateful that there was a friend who was willing to help you, much more a Classics and Humanities teacher, though you know that Tom definitely excelled in the Arts, particularly in Theatre. He was actually considered to be the Golden Boy of your University’s Theatre, having performed and bagged all the most prominent roles when he was still a student. But honestly, he had the gift of easily mastering European Languages with such ease, to a point that you have heard stories from co-workers and friends of yours who knew him in Uni, of how they hated the fact that he kept getting high marks even if he partied all night and forgot to study for the Exam the next day.

On your part, you were thankful to have a friend _actually_ helping you out. You have had the unfortunate experience of an old buddy (a best friend even) to bail out on you during the last minute when you asked for her help in your upcoming Biology Exam in Junior High, since she was the star pupil of the class and the Science Lab teacher’s pet during that time. Now with Tom – you were sure that he wouldn’t bail out on you, and he was willing to help you ace your tests…

…and probably even more.

Unfortunately for you, his conventions when it comes to reviewing, weren’t all that ordinary. And particularly for your case… You wouldn’t say it’s morally sound either.

“ _Spread your legs,_ ” you remember him whispering that night before your exam, having slipped in between your thighs as you sat on his couch reading your textbook after a hearty meal you shared with him.

“Really?” you said in disbelief. “Are you serious? Like… _Right now?_ ”

You were thankful that during the past few days, all of Tom’s contract-related demands only required help with checking the papers, excel sorting, helping him cook dinner, and having a bit of a snuggle before bed. You were grateful that he did allow you to go back to your flat during most nights, though you can see clearly through his eyes that he would have preferred it if you stayed behind and spent the night with him.

Of course, you knew that this wasn’t the only thing he was capable of. And with the knowledge of what he can do that night he took you on his kitchen counter for the first time since you signed that contract… it just brought shivers to your spine.

There were some nights when he clearly wanted _it_ , he needed _it_ , and there were days when the air around the two of you reeked of his libido… with the way he moved, the way he sauntered towards you, or even the smallest of actions, like the way he handed you your readings after you missed a class led by his co-teacher, after you ended up doing an all-nighter for a previous report.

But as much as he seemed so deviant to pen that contract, the only sexual action you both received was the first night when you came over his flat. Most of the days you managed to cunningly leave with just a hickey, aching breasts, and the correct use of your safeword. Honestly, with the finals bearing down upon the two of you, you both spent most of your time either behind a book, a pile of papers, or in front of your laptops.

Whether he was being considerate because your finals were coming up, or he was savoring the hours of getting none and taking delight in watching you squirm as you wonder when he would strike, pounce from beneath you and take you as you are… You just had no idea.

And the fact that maybe he’s just holding back for the sheer delight of saving himself for a great time when his libido his high and his need for passion is at its brink…

_Oh boy._

“When do you want it then?” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. The way he looked at you didn’t help at all. Gone was the sweet smile and that twinkle in those blue eyes that greeted you a good day when he saw you, or that excited cheeky air about him when you both connect with a certain subject, the like for a certain literary piece, or the like. The man who was busy pulling down your gym shorts and pulling down your panties with his teeth had the eyes of a lion intent of pouncing down his prey…

As much this terrified you, there was a certain kind of electricity that went through you as you watched him run his fingers across your bare hips as he raised your shirt… almost baring your breasts.

“Oh come on, love,” Tom cooed. “This will be fun. You said you were having problems in Greek Lit?”

“It’s not really a problem, I just couldn’t focus –“

You couldn’t finish your sentence at all when you found yourself gritting your teeth the moment he planted a small kiss just below your navel. “Maybe,” he whispered, his one-day stubble brushing against your porcelain skin. “We could do just a little review –“ he said, punctuating each word with a soft kiss, moving lower and lower… till he stopped to press his lips on the tip of your slit.

You gulp as you look down to see him gently running his hands on your inner thighs, a devilish smile on his face as his lips hover only inches away from your folds.

“Maybe we can do this review without getting too – _Aaaaah,_ “ you felt your nails dig into the couch, when he suddenly let his tongue dart out without warning, slightly wetting the inner lips in between your legs, slightly chuckling with the way it surprised you.

“But I want it this way,” he said delightfully, placing a safe kiss on your inner thigh, suddenly making your insides ache for more, when you clearly don’t want this kind of attention for now. “Must you say no and… make things complicated for our arrangement, darling?”

As much as his smile was infectious, and it sent a disturbing ripple of warm clouds dissolving in the pit of your stomach, you find yourself throwing back your head and groaning in disdain as you couldn’t find a legal argument to why he could stop _doing this_ to you.

You have been powerless ever since that contract has been set into motion, but instead of blaming him, you end up telling yourself that _you needed this_. You were both still in the middle of trying to establish that “secret relationship” status that is visible only to the Faculty Board (or at least what Tom claims he seems to be implying among his colleagues) before you both finally agree to make the “relationship” public (for better proof in front of the Faculty Board) once you reach a certain date stipulated within the contract – a “make or break” point in whether you both would asses if you still want to continue with the arrangement and be able to get the Scholarship towards the end.

It’s only been two weeks and you have no idea what else you could have gotten yourself into. But for the sake of your personal achievement and financial needs, you just decided to turn a blind eye to all the discomfort and see what else can this man offer you… As long as you place your head above water and not to get too involved with him _emotionally_. At least until the contract ends.

“Fine,” you say bitterly, whispering the words through gritted teeth.

“That’s my girl,” Tom said gleefully as he teasingly ran his tongue along the length of your inner thigh, making you squirm as you grip your textbook with one hand, pressing it hard against the sofa. “How about we make things a bit easy – I will give you a letter, and you mention the first thing about Greek Literature that comes to your mind?”

You blink at him, confused. “That’s too easy –“

Chuckling mischievously, you feel his _ehehehehes_ in gusts of breath, touching your inner lips, as another shiver went past your spine as he brushed his chin against your inner thigh. “You wouldn’t find it that easy after you find out what the challenge is all about, love,” he said, growling a bit… making you wonder what he had in store. “How about we start so that you have an idea of what I have in mind for our little review?”

The way he sounded so excited like a little boy bothered you, despite the fact that he was just inches away from your pussy, grinning like a madman. Grabbing a pillow on the couch as you placed it behind your head, you tried to struggle free from his grip a bit, considering the position you were in… Legs spread open, with the man’s face dangerously close to your sensitive parts, threatening you with a thundering orgasm.

“Fine,” you grumble.

Smiling devilishly, complimenting how handsome he looked in that threadbare shirt he barely wore to class, he said, “Just to let you know about the rules of the game – I will not stop giving you the Letter until you start speaking...”

“Just give me the Letter,” you growled, impatient on having this insanity over and done with.

“Suit yourself, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tom grinned, before lowering your lips towards your folds.

He completely took you by surprise when all your nerve endings were hit with lightning, as he lightly traced the Greek Letter A around your clit, making you grip the edges of the sofa with much fierceness, as a gasp escaped your lips.

His tongue continued doing the motions repeatedly as your hips bucked against his lips, as you struggled to free your thighs of his grip, while he continued letting his tongue dip against your folds in the same circular motion.

As a small keening sound escaped your mouth, he suddenly sat up and repeated his instruction: “I told you I wouldn’t stop giving you the letter till you say something…” He gently nipped at the edge of your outer folds as he stared right into your eyes.

Shaking, you exclaimed – “Wh-what am I supposed to s-say? P-Philosophers? Ch-Characters? G-Gods?” you say, shaking.

“Anything,” he whispered before running his tongue across the slit of your sex. “Anything you remember. Anything will do. Just fill the air with your voice, your thoughts, and fill me in with your knowledge of the Pantheon, the Literature, and the like.”

Before you can even retort, he dove in again and started tracing the Greek Letter Alpha over and over around your clit, causing you to scream the words “A-Antigone! Sh-She is the daughter o-of… u-uhm…” You wince as he continues to let his tongue dance across your inner folds, savoring the juices that formed within them. You try to find your words as you tangle your fingers in your hair, trying to concentrate.

“She –“ A cry suddenly escaped your lungs when his tongue stopped its gentle gliding and he suddenly brought himself to wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking intensely, causing you to throw your head back as your hips bucked involuntarily against his mouth. After letting his tongue slip deeper inside of you, he emerged from between your legs seemingly hungrier and impatient, as those blue eyes gazed intently into your own, as if they plan to burn holes through the back of your head.

“What was that?!” You scream in between gasps.

“New rules of the game,” he said smiling, as he licked his lips still dripping with your juices. “If you get distracted enough, I will start sucking harder. You need to focus. You aren’t going to get simple fill-in-the-blanks for the test. You’re going to have to write a whole essay about it. Be ready to talk.”

You sighed as you fell back against your pillow, biting your lip. For a moment, the devious sexually dominant figure who was reveling in your sexual submission, suddenly turned into the teacher you needed, the adviser you’ve always been looking for. This is why you were friends with him – he was straight to the point, and his intelligence just inspires you. But the whole sexual thing? _I guess everyone has a dark side…_ you thought.

But just as you were finding comfort with him sinking into a mentor’s mode, you were violently jerked away from your thoughts when you feel his lips (and that beard) brush against your outer folds, making you violently bite your lip.

“I surely can’t focus with what you’re doing,” you said breathlessly.

“Well then,” he said, chuckling as he jerked his head to get a bit of his curls out of his brilliant eyes. “I am going to continue till you find yourself begging…”

“I’m not going to beg…”

“Well,” he said, his voice low and hungry. “You won’t last long then, love. Better start telling me everything you know if you want me to slow down.”

 “Okay,” you say in between pants, as you prop yourself up again with your arms. “Just – just let me get a grip of things…”

He smiled up at you, for a moment showing a bit of admiration and fondness with the way seemed to be determined to continue with his _game_. But as soon as you felt your insides burn with the way his smile seemed to affect you, the devil was back in his eyes and it bothered you with the fact that he started to look so seductive with the way he glared back at you.

“Good,” he grunted. “Now say that all again in Greek.”

Without another word, he suddenly dove back in between your legs and started licking you so hard to a point you think your insides would melt.

To be honest, you didn’t even make it past Gamma before you started screaming your head off as your insides start to weaken as you climaxed gloriously in his mouth.

 _To make things worse, he didn’t even fuck me that night,_ you glared at the two-page filled test book as you sat in your chair along with ten other people, trying to translate what you had in your head as you struggled with that heat that was growing in between your legs.

Yeah, you would say that your professor-friend was considerate enough, saying that it was enough for the day, and _special treats_ would be reserved for you (and him as well) once you both are done with your finals-related tasks. However, despite feeling relieved, a part of you seemed… bitter. _I should have been happy that I didn’t receive an awfully hard banging –_

Trying to stop the urge of excusing yourself to go into the bathroom, not to take a sneak peek at a cheat sheet, but to insert two fingers into your pussy and start finger fucking yourself to get rid of the sexual urge… you end up pressing your thighs together as you sink your head onto the test booklet and smudge your face against the surface of the table just to calm yourself down.

“Professor Cohen?”

A familiar voice sounded through the hall as most of the students taking their tests turned to look in to look at the opened front door, wondering what the commotion was all about. You exasperatedly raise your head in the direction of your Professor, only to feel your heart drop into your stomach.

“Here are the readings you asked from me,” spoke the tall and golden-haired professor who strode into your classroom, as the other female students in your class looked at him as if he was a mirage. “Have them all – Plato, Sophocles… and I think I threw in a bit of Polybius in there…”

He suddenly looked at the curious eyes that were looking at him throughout the room. Backing away, Tom put his best smile on, as he raised his hands. “Sorry if I’m interrupting you though…”

You find yourself involuntarily exchanging glances with your classmate Matthew, who just ended up shrugging to himself, despite that silly looking smile on his face.

Mattie, who was your classmate in almost all of your Post-Graduate studies was someone whom you grew to like and loved hanging out with, along with three of your other girlfriends from other subjects. You’ve been friends with him ever since you started with your Masterals. You were quite aware that he does take a few subjects with Professor Hiddleston, considering that he was truly a Drama Post-Grad Major. But he has no idea of your _personal arrangements_ with the Professor, despite being one of your friends who frequently teased you about being an item with Tom – even if he does know that he’s just a friend of yours in the faculty.

 _Thank God Idiotic Matt has no idea what I’m going through_ , you growl in your head as you quickly look back down at your exam, trying to avoid the way Tom scanned the room as he stood in front of Professor Cohen’s desk, before settling those brilliant blue eyes on you – sitting at the back row, nervously chewing at the edge of your pen.

“You shouldn’t have, Thomas,” the elderly Professor Cohen, replied as she looked over the thick pile of photocopied readings from Tom’s personal collection. “You could have handed it to me in the faculty pantry,” she suggested.

“Oh but I didn’t want to bother you during your tea break Diane,” he exclaimed, putting on that charming smile he always wears. “Now don’t let me disturb you further, I’ll be on my way.”

Hearing him say that, you automatically looked up from your paper, only to see him remove his hands from the teacher’s table, slowly sauntering towards the door, smiling at the few familiar faces in the class – considering that you were surrounded by at least three to four drama majors, and that includes Mattie.

But what made you cross your legs even tighter was the fact that his eyes locked with yours, and a small naughty smile appeared on his lips.

Time seemed to have slowed down for the two of you, as he was only a few more steps to the front door of the classroom, but his lingering stare seemed to take forever. To top it all off, the way he slowly darted his tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips did not help with the fact that your insides were throbbing with _need_ as you sat fidgeting on your seat, writing in Greek, not even remembering your readings for the entire sem… but all you could think about was the way he gracefully moved that talented tongue in and out of your cunt the night before…

“Thirty minutes left,” the sound of Professor Cohen’s Scottish Accent snapped you out of the torturous eye fucking you endured from Tom as you dropped your eyes back to your paper, cussing at yourself for falling for that naughty trick he just played on you by visiting your classroom for no legal reason at all. And no, you don’t consider him doing a co-teacher a favor as a legal reason… knowing how sneaky Tom really is…

Little did you notice is the way he laughed to himself as his cheeks clearly turned red the moment he exited the classroom, cherishing the fact he got to share an intimate moment with you, even if it’s just eye-contact.


	5. Stress Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the stress of your finals gets all over your head, Tom is a gentleman enough to offer you stress relief... the best way he knows how to.

Were you able to provide the related theories made by Plato in the third question?”

“I brought up Oedipus as an example for the second question, but I’m not sure if I did my analysis right…”

“How do you pronounce λύτρωση again? I’m not sure if I spelled it correctly…”

 

You sit in the middle of a post-finals tea party, with a few of your classmates in the University Canteen, as they discuss their answers to the previous exam. However, as they try to assure each other that their analysis and dictations are correct, the more they spoke, the more you got a headache.

“Which Goddess did you use for the fifth essay?” Mattie asked you all of a sudden, snapping you out of your torpor.

Holding your head as you placed down your cup of coffee, you tried to remember what you wrote on your paper as you completely ignored how your friend looked at you in such a cheery manner with his brilliant green eyes.

“Demeter, I think,” you answer as you try to remember the rest of your essay. The fact that they were discussing their answers made you feel so uncomfortable and so unsure with your own test results, making you feel queasy despite the fact that this was your last exam for the day… and for the entire semester. “Please don’t me recount the entire paragraph.”

Your friends laughed, as they always do – as they found you often witty and snarky with your answers… But not when you’re lacking sleep, dying of anxiety over the previous exam, and worried about your grades. _What is the point of things and that scholarship if I don’t even pass this one meager exam_ , you thought as you ignored Mattie cracking a joke about how your professor taught with one of her eyebrows raised at all times. _I have to maintain a certain point average to stay in the Post-Grad program…_

You were in the middle of your worrisome thoughts when you felt your phone vibrate.

Taking it out of your messenger-style bag, you decided to take a glimpse of your inbox… when you realize who the message was from and you suddenly felt conscious with the fact that your phone was out in the open, in front of your classmates, with this message plastered on the front screen:

_Hello sweet lips. Won’t you pick up your copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology that you left in my office? - TH_

You widened your eyes in retaliation having read that suggestive text message from Tom as you retract your hand from the table and your friends’ prying eyes, as you text him back.

_My exam is over. I don’t think I’ll be needing it. I’ll pick it up another time._

Glad to get that out of the way, you find yourself watching Mattie speak about his Drama Monologue about Oberon as you realize that watching his lips move was somewhat slowly taking the headache away… when you received another text message.

You were praying that your friends wouldn’t see it, but you rolled your eyes too hard when you pulled your phone out of your pocket upon trying to guess who it was. And you definitely knew who it was who sent that message.

_Oh, but I insist that you give me a visit. Or should I come and get you? – TH_

You quickly raise your head and look around the almost jam-packed University Canteen, bustling with Post-Grads and Undergrads who share it, some of them jubilant about the last day of exams… while some are still studying for the afternoon tests that were about to come. But as much as half of the canteen were celebrating, as people around your table were already planning about nightly trips to the pub… You find yourself swerving your head around as you looked around the cafeteria, nervously looking for a trace of something or _someone_ who may be watching you, watching your every move, waiting for you to leave the vicinity…

_Leather jacket, dark green blouse, delicious legs wrapped in cotton slacks… and I just can’t wait to take them off._

_And finish your cup of coffee, darling. You’re going to need your energy._

_3 ‘o clock, my office. – TH_

You didn’t know whether it was the caffeine kicking in or your fury, but your hand holding the phone shook as you read the message.

 

***

 

_Knock, knock, knock._

He was definitely dashing, charming, and all smiles when he opened the door only to find you standing in front of him, black circles under your eyes, exhausted, and wishing that you could just have spent the afternoon napping away in your cozy apartment.

“About time, sweetheart,” the words rolled off his tongue just like honey, seemingly mocking you.

“Tom, give me my book.”

Opening the door further, you get to see the rest of his tall figure… that damned white dress-shirt tight enough that it basically made the females in the Drama Class drool over the preview of his well-chiseled muscles impressed upon the cotton surface. Wearing that trickster’s grin, he dangled your textbook high above your head, seemingly playful despite the fact that he had been serious and overworking himself for the past week. Well he did take some breaks and you know that those breaks basically cost you your sanity…

“You mean this?” Tom teased as he swiped it out of your hand’s way when you tried to grab it.

“Come on Tom,” you groaned as you felt your shoulders slouch as you stood, exasperated on his study’s front door. That same study that brought back too many memories. “Just… give me that book. I am tired, I am exhausted, and I want to rest.”

He suddenly dropped his arm holding your book, something you would do when you exasperatedly give up. But so much to your chagrin, he was wearing this sly smile as he turned around and walked towards his desk, giving you a full view of that sweet ass in his tight slacks, and those firm muscles on his back, completely accentuating his curves and his body. Luckily you were too tired, brainless, and exhausted to be really aroused… and it didn’t really help with your “tired” mood when he conveniently sat on his deck, threw your book on the couch, and tapped the wooden surface beside him.

“Come take a seat beside me,” he cooed, those blue eyes twinkling. “You can close the door behind you or not… either way it works for me.”

You cross your arms and twitch your jaw, blowing out a gust of wind that makes your bangs bounce on your forehead. You were definitely displaying an expression that can definitely breach your contract if your actions could speak. He specifically requested that you “drop your sarcasm act” and “show a little bit of intimacy”, written in fine print, as if he didn’t expect you to even see it. You can actually see his high spirits drop a bit when you stood in front of his door cross, as if you didn’t want to come in.

Sighing again in an attempt to save your neck, you flit your eyes at him as you alter your expression into something more of a pleading (yet still exasperated) school girl. “I can rest at home,” you sigh as you put a hand on the door knob.”You can keep the book until we get home –“

You suddenly hear that familiar exasperated sigh as he drops his poise and slouches his shoulder, the same expression he kept on making when you used to start talking about this old crush of yours, or when you start talking about his ex-girlfriend.

“I was just hoping we could spend some time before dinner,” Tom mused, his tone sounding slightly melancholy. “Considering that we’ve been busy about the finals and everything –“

You lean on the door, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to pretend as if your growing migraine didn’t exist. But you honestly weren’t making anything of his words since there was a growing din in your head and its either the lack of sleep, your anxiety over the fact that you may have botched your Greek exam, or something of the like.

“ – and Professor Cohen told me that you weren’t looking too well after that exam.”

The mention of that horrific Greek teacher of yours who never smiles, has high expectations of the class, kept giving graded recitations, and had a knack of failing her students – even those from the Graduate Program, suddenly turned your blood into ice… as Tom clearly saw your mood change, as you went from this lethargic-looking woman who threw on the first thing she grabbed out of her closet that morning, into a little mouse who was wide-eyed and quivering in a corner.

“Darling?” he suddenly looked at you worriedly. “Are you o—“

“Did she say anything else?” You spurted out. “Did she comment on my writing? Did she understand it? Did she comment on my essays? Were they too short? Were they –“

“Oh honey, she was just inquiring if you were alright since you looked ill when you –“ He suddenly got up from his seat. “Oh darling.”

You didn’t even hear him say the last two words since you started shaking so hard as you raised a hand to cover your mouth after you realize that you were talking too fast, you were hyperventilating as well, and you were turning cold –

The last thing you saw was the professor moving towards you before you blacked out…

 

_Sigh._

You haven’t opened your eyes yet, but all of a sudden… everything felt cool. The throbbing heat that accelerated the pain on your head suddenly disappeared, as you felt as if a huge burden was lifted and taken off your chest. You actually took a deep breath even before opening your eyes…

But when you did, you didn’t know what to feel when the first thing that came into your vision was your professor-friend’s stunning blue eyes… Even if you would not admit that they were breathtaking at all.

“Oh thank goodness,” you could actually hear the relief in his voice. “You’re awake…”

Trying to ignore how close he was to your face, or the fact that he was conveniently leaning over your reclined body, and that you were carefully lying on his long red office sofa; you try to sit up… only to have Tom gently push you back down on the couch… his hands slipping through your loosened collar with a few buttons undone, as he gently massaged the area where your shoulders meet your neck.

“What happened?”

To your surprise, despite the initial gentle look of relief awash on his face, Tom suddenly turned cross as he looked down on you, continuing to attempt to help you relax… those slender fingers tracing the contour of your neck.

“I told you that you should relax,” his voice was low and cross, unusually igniting that slow warm hum from your belly, slowly rising up your chest. “But you’re too stubborn, as usual.”

You felt your eyes shift to the side and downwards, suddenly getting a grasp of the situation as you found him seated in the space to your right hip, as he leaned over you… basking in your essence, as he focused his energy on trying to relax your tense muscles, as his hands began to travel down your shoulder… making you realize that he has unbuttoned your blouse almost all the way down on your chest –

“Wait a minute –“

You suddenly felt your body stiffen as you struggle against his hold, trying to shrug off those warm, talented hands that were cupping the curves of your shoulder. But the moment you tried to thrash against this well-built man, Tom gently placed a hand on your chest without looking too sleazy with his actions, and gently pushed you back down on the sofa, keeping you reclined.

“I told you to relax,” his voice was soft, but he still sounded cross. “You’ve been under pressure for almost more than a week now, and I am truly sorry that I was too busy as well to cater to your –“ You uncomfortably watch him lick those red, juicy lips. “- needs. Please. Let me make you more… comfortable.”

You open your mouth the moment he released his weight on you, as you attempt to struggle against his gentle hands caressing you, trying to find a way to talk your way out of this, to tell him that you didn’t want this right now, and that you just wanted to go home and sleep…

But there was something in the way he touched you…

Something at the way Tom looked into your eyes…

Something in the way he shared his space with you…

…that made you stop struggling completely and calm down.

You tried to think that this is what the contract did to you. It turned you into a woman who can’t speak for herself, someone who couldn’t fight back, and someone who couldn’t say no – just because of an array of organized words deemed to be “legal”.

However, there was another voice in your head that contradicted this notion, something that told you that you could easily push him away, easily use all your strength to fight back, and walk out of that study untouched and unabashed, considering the way Tom seemed to be having some sort of power over you with just the tips of his fingers touching your skin…

But still you realize that you stayed because you wanted to…

You allowed him to attempt to calm you down…

To get close to you and to cater to you…

And to serve you like no other man had attempted to serve you before.

Despite the contract being an excuse for you to stay there, and the fact that traces of your migraine and fatigue still lingered in your head… You realize that it was your own choice, your respect for the man and his words written on that contract, and your reluctance to breach the contract on the fear of offending him that pushed you to stay on that couch as you shared an intimate moment with him…

“Do you like that?” He whispered as he applied a bit of pressure on the back of your shoulders, his voice tender and gentle now.

You wince, unused to someone gently massaging you, as you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you weren’t used to the fact that someone was this close to you as well…

“Oh darling you’re still tense,” Tom whispered worriedly as he watched your eyes linger towards the now-closed door to his study.

His eyes followed yours only to find out that you were trying to make sure that this little “thing” you’re both doing is kept in private, as you appear slightly relieved to find the door closed. Whether its locked or not wasn’t part of your worries anymore, as you find yourself slowly succumbing to the relaxing feeling of his fingers gliding through your tired muscles…

“Oh I know what you are thinking, love,” he suddenly whispered as his eyes shot back to linger with yours. “Don’t worry, you can relax as much as you want…”

“No really,” you insist. “I’m fine –“

To your surprise, he suddenly retracted his hands from your exposed shoulder, as you hoped that he didn’t see the displeasure on your face the moment his warmth left your skin, considering the fact you were enjoying the way he undid the knots of your tangled nerves at that moment.

There was something in his eyes as he sat up, as he looked into yours hungrily… the same kind of intensity before he grabbed you and placed you onto his kitchen counter, many nights ago.

“Since you still look very tense,” Tom said. “May I suggest another technique on having you relax?”

You roll your eyes automatically and slouch your shoulders, despite lying on the comfy red sofa. “Come on Tom,” you whine. “What are you up to?”

That was when he suddenly unbuttoned the tip of your loose blouse, revealing a bit of your cleavage.

“Oh darling,” He cooed, a smile spreading upon those lips. “Don’t you fret, I know you’ll love this.”

You felt your breath hitch as he undid another button.

“I don’t think this is a good id –“

He wasn’t listening to you at all. In the most slowest and sensual way possible, he started undoing the rest of the buttons of your green blouse, before bringing those slender hands together as he smoothed the fabric off your skin… revealing your embarrassingly childish black-and-red polka dot lingerie, since you were basically on a laundry day.

Biting his lip, Tom obviously let out a low growl as he glided his fingers underneath your breasts, seemingly admiring the way your chest stuck out as he exposed yourself to him. “Isn’t that just adorable,” he sighed, as you try not to moan the moment he smoothed his palms on your ribs, causing you to puff out your chest even further.

“I don’t know what you’re up to,” you say nervously. “But –“

The little shit just figured out that your bra unhooks up front.

“Ah,” he said with a bit of surprise as he placed the two halves of your bra aside, completely exposing your cherry nipples to the air inside the study. “Isn’t that just perfect.”

You grit your teeth and look away, unable to hide the fact that you were turning red, since you weren’t able to stop the man from completely baring yourself to him, as your insides react deliciously to the way he marveled at your exposed body… with bits of clothing still sticking to it.

“Why so shy darling?” Tom teased. “I’ve seen all of that before…”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you gritted, omitting the words _you_ _git_ that was supposed to punctuate that sentence. “I’m afraid you’re up to something…”

“Something not uncomfortable, I can guarantee you on that,” he whispered as he leaned towards your chest. “And I am quite sure that you will enjoy this.”

You would have just rolled your eyes at his comment…

…but you ended up hitching your breath as he completely disappeared from your view when you see him part his lips… And you suddenly felt his lower lips brush the surface of your breasts, just right below the nipple.

You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping when you felt him brush the insides of his lower lip against the tip of your breasts, completely enticing for your nubs to harden despite the heater and the comfortable warmth inside his study.

As much as you hated to admit it… you find yourself looking up and closing your eyes, finding this entire act of his to be so… _relaxing_.

The sooner he started teasing your tits with the gentle caress of his lips, you felt your nerve endings spark the moment he started tracing his tongue upon your left nipple. You suddenly find yourself tensing up again as you slightly lift your chest up, almost thrusting the rest of your breast into Tom’s open mouth, causing him to hum the moment you do so.

To your surprise, he suddenly slides his open palm that was gently caressing your ribs up your body, only to gently tangle in your hair as he held you down on the sofa. He lifted his mouth from your left tit, as you had to stop yourself from emitting a whine, disappointed at the sudden lost contact from your skin.

“Relax,” his voice was deep and rough now… and it was the same way you could describe how his lips moved the moment he dove back and took your entire nipple in his mouth.

You find yourself closing your eyes now, the image of his mouth - smothering your exposed breast as he repeatedly traced circles around your nipples – forming in your mind as he continued to do this action, embedding the sensation in your memory as slowly, moment by moment… his actions started to have you procure goosebumps all over your body, even on your exposed chest… as your nerve endings began to clash.

“ _Augh_ ,” you couldn’t help sighing as he removed his mouth from your breast, as he licked a trail across your cleavage towards your left nipple this time, with your moan sounding more than a retaliation than that of ecstasy.

“So you do like that,” Tom said with a chuckle, before teasingly brushing the tip of your right tit with his lower lip… an act that drove you insane.

You just gritted your teeth and wrinkled your forehead in reply, as a strained keening sound escaped your mouth. You barely even noticed that you stopped digging your nails into his expensive sofa, and had hooked them on the back of his clothes, tugging at that marvelous white dress shirt he was wearing.

“Oh sweetheart,” he cooed, his insides stirring upon seeing you squirm upon his grasp. “But you still don’t seem to be relaxed enough –“

Nothing prepared you at all when he suddenly smeared his mouth against your other breast, as you let out a strained cry when he repeatedly licked and suckled on your nipple, causing jolts of lightning flying through your nerves, hardening the tips of your breast with every brush of his tongue.

“ _Oh God!_ ” you actually hear yourself saying despite the growing din on your head, as you find Tom slowly tightening his grasp on your hair as he slipped his other hand under you, placing it on your back as he arched your body towards his mouth… enabling him to suck even harder.

You would have said that in that span of a few minutes… your tension did melt away.

Replaced by a new kind of tension…

…as he repeatedly moved his head around to ensure that his mouth is able to take in the rest of the fleshy mound he is sucking, making sure that he gets the rest of your breast wet with his lips… as he continued to relentlessly suckle and brush his tongue in the most teasing manner, completely taking so much pleasure with the fact that you were moaning your head off… making these beautiful sounds that you couldn’t even remember doing… since your head was literally lost in the clouds with how he traced his tongue against your nipples.

You unknowingly tangled your hand in his curls, twirling a few strands or two in your fingers as you try to find purchase and distraction amidst the way he drove you mad by swirling his tongue against your tits. You bent yourself closer to his mouth, urging him to do it even more, to suck even harder, to make you scream… even without saying the words.

All your inhibitions, your previous stubbornness, and your refusal to walk into his study and do what he asks of you disappeared in a flash… as you realize how dangerous this man could be once he realizes that you do have a tit fetish…

You thought the moment would never end… until he released one of your nubs and quickly alternated to sucking and suckling one breast after another… till you find yourself pulling on his curly locks a bit too hard that he had to stop…

And gave you a glare of a lifetime that read as if he wanted to devour you and make you scream his name for the next two hours.

“I-I’m not t-tense anymore…”

“I can see that,” Tom whispered, the way his voice sounded so rough didn’t help with how soaked your panties were.

“I…”

You tear your eyes from his that could literally read through your soul as you try to distract yourself from saying the words you don’t want to say, but something you know he is dying to hear. But as you looked at the state of the sofa… you realize how much you must have been enjoying the way he suckled your tits upon seeing your legs wrapped around his waist… and his couch pillows littered all over the floor.

“Just say the word,” he suddenly spoke up, snapping you out of your trance. “And I could put this stress relief on hold… for something more _potent_.”

You hitch your breath as you looked into those predatory blue eyes, horrified with the way you saw yourself completely yield to him – evidenced by your arms wrapped around his shoulders, after completely messing up his honey-blonde hair that even made him look… sexually enticing.

“ _Tell me what you want._ ”

The way he delivered those five words just broke your resolve to withhold sexual intimacy from Tom even further.

“F-fine,” you almost squeaked. “ _I want it.”_

He looked at you, not blinking at all… as you realized that maybe he could just read right through you… your mind, your thoughts, your fantasies… your deepest darkest secrets… And then you realize that maybe you really had no way out.

“ _You want what?_ ”

You hold your breath. “ _You._ ”

 

 


	6. Schrodinger’s Lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When climax builds and things fall out of place... one thing matters: Is the door really locked? Or not? Because if it isn't...

“Augh!”

You felt your hand clamp your mouth as your other hand’s fingers dug down the desk’s wooden surface, scraping a bit of wood as they brushed under your nails.

You completely lost track of what happened.

First thing you know was that your breasts were literally swollen thanks to Tom’s furious nipping at your tits as you lay on his red sofa, completely forgetting that  you were squishing your Edith Hamilton book underneath your weight. And then of course, in the heat of it all… you remember telling him how much you wanted him as you ran your hands across that taut chest with just the fabric of his dress shirt separating you from that smooth skin that smelled of peppermint…

Next thing you know he had pulled your legs and wrapped it around his waist, as he carried you over to his desk, kissing your mouth as if he wanted to erase it from your face.

What completely took you by surprise and completely snapped you back to reality from your heated daze of lust and desire… was when he turned you over your stomach on his desk, your feet brushing against his office chair… as he parted your panties and slowly filled you with his entire length… Whistling low and humming hard as he did so.

Dear God, were your walls stretched.

Yes it’s true, and you just had to cover your mouth upon realizing it, but he may have not had given you enough foreplay to prepare you for this kind of pounding, but you were wet. Hell you were damp soaked. You were dripping ever since you were thinking of how he spelled your name using Greek letters round and round your clit the night before. Foreplay? Not necessary.

You felt yourself wince when you heard Tom make that delicious groan as he pulled himself all out within you halfway, his grip on your left butt cheek leaving moon-crested groves where his nails have been. Jesus Christ you can even feel his muscles move within you, as well as the rough swatch of cloth from his trousers brushing against your exposed thighs as his legs gently caressed yours… in a prelude before you hear that feral grunt escape his lips as he completely rammed his length back inside of you, illiciting a small squeak from your lips.

Trying to think above his delicious moaning and groaning, you just couldn’t believe it how he had you completely under his control even before you could say “CONDOM”. Speaking about that, you wince upon realizing how he went bareback once more and filled you up with his cock without even considering protection…

Just like the last time…

…the last time when he treated you as if you were dinner in his kitchen and you literally broke into pieces under his hold as he spilled himself into you during the first night. Yes, once again he forgot about the condom, and you were so lucky that you weren’t ovulating anymore and you got your period in two days. But this time…

…as you felt him becoming so feral, his breathing uneven, as he roughly rammed and pounded himself within you, like an animal looking for purchase… you weren’t so sure if you would even be so safe this time around.

“T-Tom…” your words escape your mouth as much as you hated saying his name when he’s fucking you, in fear that this would make him think that you are thinking of him, and only him, as you both “make love”… and that’s his vocabulary, not yours.

You were about to reprimand him on safety in the middle of him fucking you like an animal, when he interrupted your little ministrations as he leaned over you and turned your head to the side, smothering your still candied-lipsticked mouth with wild and hungry kisses, as you realize how much he must have been holding back during the past few days of the finals… as he tried not to think of fucking you as you sat on his couch reading Plato.

Oh you tried so hard not to look back at him, his hands clamped to your hips, your sweet ass hitting his crotch repeatedly as he brought your aching cunt down his throbbing shaft on, and on, and on, and on… The fact that he had unbuttoned his dress shirt and had his delicious pectorals peeking from behind the curtain of the white fabric as it glistened with sweat, was enough for you to look straight forward and at the door to stop yourself from coming before he did…

In the middle of you trying to keep control, you heard him say your name… which sounded more like a whimper than a command.

 _Control_ , that’s what you keep telling yourself.

_Control it, control yourself, and control him… and you wouldn’t lose to this ridiculous contract._

As you watched him lose himself, his hands caressing you all over, from your hips, to the flat of your stomach, only to end up clutching your breasts, you had to shut your eyes to stop yourself from looking back and seeing his face contorted in so much pleasure as he threw his head back and moaned… a soft moan that escaped his lips, but indicated that he was close. Close enough, but not close to explode within you.

You grit your teeth as you clench the edges of his desk, ignoring the way your tits ached as he gripped on them. You tried not to think of the things you know would surely turn you on – the fact that this hot professor everyone has been lusting about is currently fucking you on his desk, the fact that the same professor you thought you were attracted to is currently filling your pussy with his throbbing cock, the fact that anyone can hear you right now considering you are in one of the rooms in the faculty hall, and that sole fact that Tom… the beautiful Tom, the Professor Hiddleston everyone is talking about to be the most prized male in the faculty, the one Drama girl majors fap off to when they read Shakespeare in their beds… is currently boning you as your name repeatedly escaped his lips like a prayer.

“Oh darling,” the way he said it was enough for you to bite your lips and draw blood.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

Tom opened his eyes and slowed his thrusts as he glared at the door, without seeing the horror forming on your face. You gripped the edges of the wooden mahogany desk as you stared at the door in horror, realizing that whoever it is knocking may come in and catch the two of you… With you on your stomach, flat out on the table, with this well-respected Professor standing behind you with your legs spread all over his crotch, as he gripped your exposed creamy hips in the middle of fucking you…

You didn’t understand why, but the fear and the anxiety just made your tits harden even further, pressing themselves against the cold surface of the table.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

Tom’s movements may have slowed, but he didn’t pull himself completely out of you. You turned to look at him, the one thing you refrained to do ever since he penetrated your quivering folds, and suddenly found yourself staring at such a flattering angle… his jaw clenched, his eyes intensely looking at his door, and his features dripping with sweat as beads formed on his three-day old beard, his slender neck, those defined collarbones… and with the grooves and the smooth surface of his muscles. The sight of him just made you clench around his cock, the last thing you wanted to happen.

He looked down at you and you suddenly burned with white fire with what you saw in those deep blue eyes – lust. Intense passion. A desire that can burn an entire field down. Or maybe an entire campus.

You heard someone shuffle outside the door as goosebumps formed all over your exposed skin, as you hold your breath…

Watching the doorknob turn itself…

You don’t remember locking it. You do remember holding onto it when you suddenly fainted due to your anxiety attack earlier, and the next thing you knew was that you were on Tom’s couch and he was leaning over you… offering you a better way to relax…

During those tense moments…

Even tense than when you took your Greek exam…

You both didn’t say a word…

And both didn’t make a sound…

A silent mutual consensus…

As you both watched the door knob flick…

…only to be halted by the lock.

 

As the shuffling stop and you heard footsteps move away, you felt yourself heaving a sigh… only for a gasp to be squeezed out your lungs when you hear your so-called lover grit his teeth as he thrust himself completely into you again, hilting as he hits a delicate spot… a delicate spot that made your entirety quiver.

“Ungh!” you let out a small moan only Tom can hear.

You didn’t see it, but a smile twitched out of his lips as to your relief (and somewhat leaving an empty void in your stomach) he pulled his girth from within you, leaving your pussy quivering with need, but it was the last thing you wanted right now.

Just when you thought it was over, he suddenly turned you around as you were lying on your back…

…as he thrust himself completely into you once again, making sure to cover your mouth as you squeaked upon contact.

Your eyes were clouded with fear as you felt him fuck you relentlessly, his breathing hitched, as his rhythm was completely out of control… fucking you like a feral animal. You looked up to find his face etched with something akin to ecstasy and pain, as his beautiful features were distorted into an expression that only told you one thing that he didn’t even have to say: _He was close._

“T-Tom –“ you tried to whisper into his hand.

He ignored you, and clamped his hand tighter over your mouth, completely shutting out your voice.

You slightly bit on his fingers, seeing him wince, as you shove his hand from your lips, grabbing onto his locks just to get his attention. “Tom!” you say with much urgency. “We don’t have protec –“

The way he moaned out his next words would have been enough to turn your knees into jelly.

“I-I’m g-going to burst… inside of you… darling…”

“NO!” you hissed at him as you started pulling on his shirt, trying to get him off you. You were afraid. You were deathly afraid. It’s not just about your cycle, it’s not just about being ready, but you didn’t want him completely filling you with his seed just like what he did the last time. It was too close, it was too deep… _it was too intimate_.

“P-Please…” He said, slightly opening those eyes, the bits of the baby blues peering back at you, as he looked like a little lost child, begging for you to hold him. “L-let’s come t-together..”

Screaming “no” was indeed futile, as you squint your eyes and try to overpower the man who was literally ramming his shaft repeatedly in and out of your sensitive folds. You swear you heard him whimper as you managed to push him off you, as with the entire force, he managed to draw himself out of you as well. He fell on his seat, his cock still erect, as he looked at you as if you slapped him in the face again… before quickly opening his drawer to pull out a bunch of tissues to catch the milky white fluids that were suddenly shooting off his shaft.

You refuse to see him holding himself as he came, as you lay motionless on the desk, the build-up of heat within your stomach slowly dying like fading embers, as you feel your orgasm retreat back into the depths of your being.

Refusing to look at how small he suddenly looked as he sat on his chair, still shaking, his wad of tissues still clutched inside his fist; he was far from the man who hovered over you, like a sexual beast about to milk you of your desire… a few minutes earlier. In fact he looks like a wounded dog, sitting in the corner, straining not to look in your direction.

Sick of this kind of awkwardness, you avert from his gaze as you pick yourself up from the wooden table, dressing up as quickly as you can. Thank God he didn’t really completely remove any article of clothing from your person, making it easy for you to appear decent in just a span of minutes, as you finish up buttoning your shirt over your hooked bra.

“I’ll see you at home,” you say absent-mindedly as you picked up the book from his couch and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Okay,” you heard him whisper, almost like a small child telling his mother that he’ll stop playing so he can come inside for dinner.

Whatever gave you the courage to walk out on Tom still hurt and shocked as he sat in his chair, still probably exposed, gave you the power to walk right into the door that has been trying to open itself earlier, and out of his office.

However, the moment you close the door behind you, the sight of someone standing right across Professor Hiddleston’s office just made you want to dissipate into thin air.

“Hey!” said Mattie, looking quite shocked as you probably turned paper white upon seeing your classmate standing right in front of you.

“That’s weird,” the brunette said as he pointed at the office. “I thought Professor Hiddleston’s office was empty?”

_Oh. Shit._


	7. The Prince of Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivvie ends up talking to a classmate to steer him off the fact of her true intentions of being in Professor Hiddleston's study. But what is Mattie really up to?

“Well then, he’s been giving extra credit for those soliloquy pieces lately, I just couldn’t say no,” Mattie continued chattering as he walked beside you, as you clearly tried to get a grip of your footing… considering that your thighs underneath your slacks were chafing and there was a thin line hidden underneath your blouse since you were rammed repeatedly against someone’s office desk repeatedly with their huge shaft squeezing within your fo—

“You aren’t taking up drama,” Mattie exclaimed, running a hand through his floppy, one-sided brown hair. “Why were you at Prof Hiddles’s office?”

Even the sound of your “friend’s” nickname at school infuriated you.

You sighed as you scanned your mind thinking of the best alibi you can fabricate in the span of fifteen minutes while you weren’t distracted by the way your boyish schoolmate grinned and bounced alongside of you, waiting for an answer… that doesn’t have to do with a contract and fucking your professor-friend.

“Doing student assistant errands,” you found the answer mechanically escaping your mouth. “Just left him some notes as requested by the Department.”

“Oh,” the man who was just a few years older than you (compared to Tom, but don’t let his face fool you… since you are definitely legal enough for him and that contract you _willingly_ signed) nodded as he looked up and nodded to himself. “Trying to raise some funds with the SA?”

“Yeah,” you say meekly, sighing as you review all of your problems, why you got into that contract and found yourself wanton and ready at a teacher’s desk. “Still haven’t got a job, still applying for that Museum Restoration Artist, but they won’t hire me since I lack experience…”

Matt taps his chin, clean and free of stubble, as he rather was deep in thought.

“But you say you’re into Humanities…”

You nod. “That’s right, to support my Art background…” your eyes trail away, trying to remember your original goals on why your took up that Graduate Program in the first place. “In hopes of getting to touch Masterpieces...”

“That’s one fine dream,” Matt whistled, making you smile.

You always liked Matt. He was fun to be around with, not to mention he was supportive, and very intelligent too. He was often the life of the party among your friends in the GP, well-spoken, and was very satirical… he almost rivals Thomas when it comes to impersonations. But there was something in the way he smiled back at you and the way he appeared so eager to help you that made you warm up to him…

“You know,” he started, tapping his chin once again, a typical mannerism. “I have a proposition for you.”

At this point, you are already sick of propositions.

But if it’s from a friend, and a good one at that, who doesn’t have a record of being a sex-addict… how can you resist? It is a friendly proposal after all.

“What is it?” You answered back in a friendly tone, still not wanting to fall into an orchestrated trap (even if you won’t admit that it was your idea) like what you had with Tom. “What do you have in mind?”

He just smiles. “Want to discuss it over tea?”

 

 

***

 

 

“Wow,” you exclaimed, the mist of the Irish-Breakfast brewing up your face. “So is that the reason why you decided to pursue Drama?”

The brunette shrugged, smiling at his almost empty cup. You decided to go past the roundabout near your University, and you end up at that nice little café shop near the Student’s dorms, as the sounds of celebrations and students getting drunk were being heard from the string of pubs next door.

“My sister was forced to pursue her ballet,” he mused, looking off into the distance. “And eventually she got pregnant but that never stopped her from trying to join the _Le Cygne_ Troupe that performed _Twelfth Night_ at our old town.”

You sit there watching the way he animatedly talks as he flails his hands, amazed at his zest for life and his innocent passion about things. If there was one thing you admired about Mattie, it’s his positive outlook on life. You however, refuse to look back and say that this is exactly how Thomas operates even before he met Lizzie… You also deny the fact that he may still be this animated but mixed with regret and angst even since you blatantly rejected him…

But there was definitely something about Matt. And despite everything that happened behind closed doors, the panic followed by the shame and the guilt… Your friend sitting there discussing dreams, plans, and hopes with you somewhat lifted you up and took you far away from the reality you didn’t want to think about. That was what being with Matt was for you.

“Now, you see here,” he said slowly, eyes focusing on you as he finished the last drop of tea in his cup. “I have been doing some roles with the _Le Cygne_ Theatre for the past year, thanks to sissy,” he explained, waving a hand around. “And I hear that they’re in need of a props-man.”

He looks at you and shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “A props- _person_.”

You smile and put your hands together. You loved doing sets and it was one of your favorite projects back in University. The kind days when you would design swords, canes, knives, and other weapons. And there were other times when you drabbled in costume where you explored that possibility of being a fashion designer. But getting close to the stage and setting a theatrical performance in motion with everything you created? The experience is priceless.

“Isn’t it you’re a Communications Graduate?” Your friend inquired worriedly, raising a thin eyebrow. “Have you drabbled in theatrical production before –“

You sat up excitedly, your hands still together, as you unconsciously swerve your teacup out of the way with your hands, splashing a bit of tea on the plate.

“Yes! Yes!” You plead with him. “Oh I love making sets, and costumes, and props –“

He worriedly looks at the tiny mess you’ve made, before grinning sheepishly at you. “You do have to remember, you’re making props –“

You clasp your hands together and purse in your lips, seemingly begging him. “I love doing theatre work! Well not exactly the acting part, I’m not completely fond of that –“ You frown remembering what happened when you last attempted a monologue. Sure you had decent marks, but the memory of the rehearsal just left a bitter taste in your mouth…

“Please!” You begged once more, sinking your head to a point your hair almost touched the table.

Mattie pretended to think about it for a bit, before flashing you a big smile as he handed you a card. You quickly accepted it and admired the curved neck of the swan that decorated the _Le Cygne_ Troup Town Theatre Logo.

“Give it a ring,” he said with a wink. “And look for Lily, she’s the Stage Production Head. Let her know that you found out about it through me.”

You hold the calling card near your chest with both hands, as you look up at your proud looking friend with a sparkle in his eye.

“Thank you.”

 

 

***

 

 

“Make sure you consider it!”

“Of course I will!”

“Give Lily a ring okay?”

“Come on Matt!”

 

The brunette-haired man laughed as he stopped in his tracks, laughing as he was ahead by a few steps from the girl he was talking to. You were also out of your breath as you smiled back at him, as you both reach a crossroad… one leading to wherever he was going, and another leading back to your shared and almost run-down flat.

You awkwardly stand in front of each other, as Mattie feebly points in the direction where he is supposed to be going. You shrug in turn and take a few steps backwards.

“I’m… I’m going this way,” you reason out, but not tell him the fact that your flat was only a few blocks away. You would, but in case you do get a _surprise visit_ , you wouldn’t be pleased if Mattie was there.

“Do you live nearby?” Your classmate offers. “I could walk you over –“

“No, no,” you started, remembering that wish of slipping right into bed after that _exercise_ you’ve been through this early afternoon. “You don’t have to –“

“Are you sure –“

“I’d take the Subway and go a long way round,” you lied, scratching the back of your head. “Go on,” you urge him, ignoring that boyish smile. “I’ll be fine. Didn’t you say that you had this party to attend –“

“Oh shit –“

Mattie was suddenly checking his watch that read 6:30pm, as he was suddenly sending and looking at messages over his smartphone, biting his lip like a little boy who knew he had to come running home to his mother before his milk gets cold. “They’re gonna kill me –“

“Go!” You continue urging, as you tried to stifle a giggle.

Suddenly running off, you watch him make his way in the opposite direction as you felt your heart sink. It’s as if you weren’t standing in front of him a few minutes earlier, and he wasn’t grinning and making you laugh half an hour earlier while you were at the café. You were about to turn around and lumber sadly towards your flat, when someone suddenly sneaked up behind you to tap your shoulder.

“Boo!”

“Aaaah!”

Mattie was beside himself laughing as you hold your chest, completely surprised.

You catch your breath and playfully punch him in the arm, as he was still in the midst of his guffawing. Just when you started laughing as well, completely forgetting all your troubles in the world as you spent an afternoon with a wonderful classmate who you wouldn’t deny was pretty attractive himself…

You felt your heart jump when he suddenly kissed your cheek.

“Don’t forget to check out my offer, yeah?” He called out, before turning to sprint in the opposite direction.

Your heart all a flutter, completely forgetting the fact that you sort of “promised” yourself to another man, you nod as your cheeks turned beet red. “Yes of course!”

“Promise?” He called out through cupped hands before disappearing around a corner.

“Promise!”

 

 

***

 

You didn’t really remember what happened next.

All you remember was falling in your bed and sinking into that well-deserved sleep you always wished for ever since the semester started. No hanky panky, no vibes, no porn, no nothing, forget everything. Just you and well-deserved sleep over your barely fixed and sorted out bed that still had some of the left-over drafts for your Spanish Paper, as you reached behind your pillow and found your Roman History textbook.

Flinging the book with its spine thicker than your hand outstretched, you fluffed up your pillow and quickly sank into sleep.

You had no idea what time you woke up.

The first thing you wanted was yogurt. You didn’t know why, but you craved that creamy and delicious yogurt the moment you opened your eyes. You almost made a racket in your empty flat, considering your ex-office roommie was probably out on her new work – that graphic artist job you apparently lost when they found out you were taking your graduate studies. With no plans of taking the path you have chosen, your friend had your blessing as she applied for the same job and she got it in the long run. The thought of it makes you happy for her, but half-bitter about your loss… but that’s not really the least of your problems right now.

What suddenly snapped you awake while you were taking a nibble out of the cereal box when you realized it was 1109am.

There was a small voice in your head that snorted at your oversleeping…

…and then you realized it was Tom’s voice.

You found yourself sprinting for your cellphone, left unattended for almost fourteen hours, ever since you stepped out of the café with Mattie. Digging for it in your bag, you felt your cheeks turn pale when you realize that you have probably about five or six messages that were left unread, and that was excluding Mattie’s little message asking if you got home safely.

And then you remember that little promise you made after hurriedly dressing up, with the man still looking defeated and exposed in his chair… “ _I’ll see you at home_.”

“Fuck.”

 

 

***

 

You didn’t care how late it was, or how the sun was blazing hot, or how close it was to lunch… but you found yourself in school almost twenty minutes later after your little “awakening”… armed with a box of pudding sweets you bought at Tom’s favorite shop.

Everything was automatic, you just suddenly found yourself running down the school halls, after taking some sort of quick shower, as you set off without wondering why you even started running in the first place…

All you knew is that you felt guilty, and you have seen this happened before – when you came in late for a review session that you set yourself, finding out that pudding actually worked and wiped the frown off his face. You were suddenly drenched by shame you couldn’t understand, and all you wanted is relief, to make yourself believe that he won’t be angry after you forgot about everything you were supposed to do that night…

Anything… anything to appease him and that contract –

You were almost at his door, when it suddenly opened… followed by the laughter of a young woman. You almost skidded down the hall, but you stopped yourself in time to hide yourself around the first corner. However, you found yourself slightly peeking from the wooden cracks of the faculty door beside you, trying to get a glimpse of the girl who walked out of your professor-friend’s study… Wondering if he probably tricked another girl into signing up into an agreement with him –

To your surprise, the man himself walked out of the study in that stunning gray threadbare shirt… making you a bit surprised to see him that dressed down… But then of course you find yourself rolling your eyes when you remember that the semester has ended yesterday, and that your professors are allowed to not appear formal as they always did – with Tom’s dress shirts, vests, and those suits that made him seem taller than what he already is –

You watch silently as you stayed out of sight. There was an air about this woman who was probably two or three years younger than you… as she seemed to ask more than just “extra credit” from the faculty heartthrob.

“But sir –“ the young girl exclaimed, before giggling again.

You can barely make out what they were saying, but you felt yourself raise an eyebrow when the girl (with hair darker than yours) reached out and attempted to “straighten” your professor-friend’s collar… only to run her manicured nails down his firm pectorals…

It didn’t help that the entire hall echoed with Tom’s _ehehehes_.

He wasn’t blushing… you knew he wasn’t really a blusher… Except that time when he kissed you in his study. But right now, he definitely wasn’t blushing. And you felt your stomach lurch in disgust when he suddenly touched the girl’s long black hair… playing with the ends like some frustrated sexual flirt you always knew him for…

You watched once more as she giggled again, seemingly making a bargain… only for Tom to bite his juicy lower lip, and shake his head in reply. The girl’s sunny demeanor suddenly disappeared in a flash, as she was suddenly pleading and begging even more at the man who stood in front of her, resilient at keeping his ground.

In a last attempt to sway him, she raised her hand to once again touch him… only for Tom to catch it, and hold it firmly…

You found yourself so engrossed with whatever you were watching, not even noticing that you were tipping the pudding box in an off manner, almost making a bit of the sauce drip out of the cover and onto your fingers. Cussing under your breath, you suck it off your nails… hoping nobody heard you.

You raise your eyes again only to find the girl snatching her hand from Tom’s grip, causing the man to chuckle under his breath as the girl politely thanked him and sped off, stomping her boot’s heels on the marble floor as she headed towards your direction… causing you to turn around and pretend to be reading notes off your phone, facing a direction filled with a crowd of people.

You didn’t notice at all how Tom raised his nose and looked in the distance… directly at the blind corner where you were peeking from earlier… before letting a small smile crease off the side of his lips as he went inside his study, shutting the door behind him.

Thirty minutes later – he thought there was a knock on the door…

He opened his faculty room door, only to find a pudding box left on the ground… with its box cover flap still dripping with a bit of caramel sauce.

 

 

***

 

 

“What did you say?”

It was the first time you almost lost your shit at the Student’s Account office. And it didn’t help that the old woman who was manning the cashier was so bored to a point that you can see in her face that she was in a hurry to go home. “I can’t –“ You argued. “I already paid for those Lab Fees!”

She was chewing her gum as she looked at you, as a definitely clear Queens accent echoed out of her mouth. “Sorry sweetie,” she mumbled around her gum. “But computer says you didn’t.”

Tempted to tear your hair out and wishing your friend Mattie was there to comfort you after… _everything_ you’ve went through this day (and you swear that you only got off the wrong side of the bed), you grab your credit card and fling it at the lady, telling her to take the rest of the lab fees out of your account. Much to your chagrin, she only looked at you through those wide-rimmed spectacles before plucking your Master Card off the wooden table, to run it through her tiny credit card record machine.

You were trying to keep your cool when all of a sudden; your phone started ringing to the tune of one of Lily Allen’s known pop songs.

Ignoring the way that blonde lady at the register glared at you and your ringing phone as she chewed her gum, you pull it out and decided that your message tone is too long. Halting the song before it can get to “ _Fuck You_ ” (so appropriate to your feelings right now), you open the message that was indicated on your start screen… only to feel the hair on the back of your neck rise.

“ _Hoping you can come for dinner. 8pm. My flat. – TH_ ”

 

 

***                                                                             

 

 

Once again, you held your breath as you nervously tuck a lock of hair behind your ear… absolutely nervous as you approach Tom’s door.

This wasn’t like the first time you arrived at his flat to carry out your contract duties… This time, you knew you did something wrong. Shame felt like flowing down your body upon remembering how you ended your “meet” with him the day before on a bad note, as he sat helpless and dejected of his wanton affections as he sat half-naked in his study.

Voices in your head defended yourself, as you keep on telling your conscience that you only did what was right and comfortable for you… You also keep washing your hands off the fact that maybe you did offend him and maybe the man just truly wants to be intimate with you… And with the way he looked at you… You could only shiver (from disgust? Or that tingly feeling you feel inside of you?) as you thought of those baby blues wanting warmth and love from the depths of your body and soul…

But then, you realize that it wasn’t your premature exit from your little “lovemaking session”… but it was your promise to be there and you weren’t…

It was the admission of this sin that prompted you to knock on the door… with your heart on your throat.

“Come in,” the tender voice said from within the flat. “The door is open.”

Wincing, you expect him to be at his seat, still in that threadbare shirt and leather jacket that made you feel uncomfortable since it showcased how fit and sculpted his body was, without him having to take his shirt off. What made you feel sick to the stomach is the image of him in your head, still slumped over with a defeated look on his face, like how you left him… judging by the sound of his voice when he called out to you.                                                                     

But the moment you completely opened the door and had the view of the flat… you felt time freeze as you stopped in mid-step.

Lighted candles filled the entire living room… a few on the coffee table, a couple on the kitchen counter… and two on the dining table that was filled with delicious food that ranged from a classy garden salad to beer-battered fish with chips and tartar sauce.

You knew he didn’t have these as takeaways, judging how the man had his back to you… a blue apron tied over that threadbare shirt you feared so much… as the black leather jacket that you refuse to see as something sexy was slung over one of his couches, seemingly untouched as he worked. The way he seemed to act so domesticated, cooking a full-course meal for the two of you… just made your ice-cold heart melt into a puddle on the floor.

And it didn’t help with the way he played soothing jazz music, setting the mood of the entire dinner.

“Oh hello there,” there was a sunny tone to how Tom spoke as he turned around to grin at you, causing you to snigger a bit, finding that there seemed to be a drop of tartar sauce clinging from his cheek. He wiped sweat from his brow, before leaning back against his sink to take a deep breath and marvel at your impressed stare that seemed to linger on his homemade meal on the well-set table…

“Care to have dinner with me?”


	8. Lace, Sweat, and Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To ease the tension, Tom prepares a fine candlelit meal for the two of you. But he has one request: for you to wear this laced dress he kept a long time ago, for dinner. You know this dinner won't end well.

“You must be mental.”

 

He put down the bowl he was holding, letting out a small exasperated sigh as he placed down the beater beside it on the sink, as he leaned over… those firm muscles shifting against his shirt, clear enough for you to notice from your distance as you stood by the door.

He would have showed how exasperated he was, but Tom wasn’t one to do that. He just sighed and remained there standing, his back to you, refusing to show you his face…

But you remain standing in front of the door… frozen with the spectacle that was the living room.

You tried to reconcile the fact that you:

1)      Stopped the man from reaching his climax with you the day before (though admittedly, you didn’t reach your climax either)

2)      You completely bailed out on your promise to be home that same night as you completely slept through the entire evening

Something cold and slimy trickled down your spine and made its way around to drop into the emptiness of your stomach, and you identified this horrible feeling as guilt. Your eyes lingered over the prepared dinner and the strategically positioned candles all over the living room and his dining room, save for those dim lights coming from his bathroom and his bedroom… You didn’t want to find out what they were as you stood there, a bitter taste forming in your mouth.

You were in the middle of your worrisome thoughts, when a clear voice snapped you out of your stupor.

“I’m not really mental, darling,” Tom finally spoke up as he turned around, his sunny demeanor seemingly fading. “I am just returning the favor of those pudding cups you left at my faculty room door.”

With the way your jaw was unhinged, you didn’t know whether you should retort and defend your claim that you weren’t even in that hall and you never touched a pudding in your life… or just stand there looking aghast as you try to figure out how did he even discover that it was you who left the pudding box in front of his door as you stomped away in a huff…

“That’s—“ You find yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way he hid a small satisfied smile as he picked his bowl up again and walked around his kitchen, preparing to pour the mixture into a pan. “That’s not what I meant when I said you were mental,” you spoke as you looked at the set table and the expensive silverware he must have borrowed from his mother. “How can you be so nice…” your voice trailed off. “After what I did…”

Tom didn’t say a thing, he just popped his tray with his brightly colored mittens into the oven.

“You should even be punishing me right now…” you murmur under your breath when you suddenly felt like snapping into a forward and curt position when you hear him slam the oven door closed.

He stood up in his full height, eyes closed in exasperation as he pulled his apron off his body in one long fluid motion, exposing to you his thin threadbare shirt slightly drenched with his sweat, outlining that body that he didn’t even try to hide from you. By the time he has untied the knots of the apron off his neck, he stretched a bit and turned to open his eyes… glaring with those intense sapphire blues that bore right into your brain.

“Maybe you’re right,” he whispered softly enough for you to hear, subtly causing you to close the door with a gentle _click_ behind you. “Maybe _I should be punishing you_.”

You felt the air suddenly turn cold… despite that fact that something inside of you was starting to thaw your ice cold heart… bringing that warmth pooling into your stomach.

So much for your rally for control, and so much for that good start where Tom was being sweet yet utterly disgusting with how he allowed you to trot all over him despite your little sexual “indiscretion” (still you are right that it is your prerogative) and the fact that you did bail out on him. But with the way he was acting, the way he stood with his back to you running those long fingers into those curls made you feel both nervous and anticipating all at the same time…

“Dinner will start in a while,” the curt manner of how he spoke when he handed you the final edit of the contract was heard. “I shall take a quick shower so I can slip into something more comfortable and formal, while I need you to do something for me.”

“I –“

He turned around with those blue eyes burning with a fire within them, as he stared you down. You found yourself emitting a little squeak as you backed into a chair.

“I need you to change your clothes for me.”

You look down on your sweats and day old jeans, wondering where the hell would you be getting decent clothes at a time like this when your flat is basically a taxi ride away. And it was just a fancified homemade meal, what’s the big deal of trying to get a better outfit – Somehow you dare not explore those thoughts when you look up and see the stern and serious aura about Tom.

 _This man takes his contracts and games so seriously_ , you whine in your head as you find yourself sitting on the arm of the sofa chair you backed into. _You just don’t know how to win…_

“I’m sorry but I don’t have better clothes –“

“You will find a beautiful white laced dress lying on my bed if you enter my room,” Tom instructed carefully, but in a crisp manner, as he turned away from you again, trying to gain control of his temper. “I want you to wear that for dinner.”

You drop your jaw as the words registered in your head. _There was no way in the world that you would be wearing that –_

He suddenly turns around and catches you off guard with those pleading puppy-dog eyes, as he tried to reason with you like a 32-year-old adult.

“Please.”

 

 

***

 

 

The food was delicious, no doubt about that.

Everyone close to Tom knew he was a brilliant cook. A skill he doesn’t often show, or else he would often be taunted along with his intelligence and his acting prowess. “You got everything,” his envious male friends would tease. “Leave the women to us.” The women of course would retort, and would egg him to make even more for them… This is why he chose to cook only for himself… and those whom he considered special enough to let them close to him.

Once again, you consider yourself unfortunate to have his attention… But a small voice within your head keeps on whispering how you will regret these thoughts one day.

“Healthy choice,” you murmur in an attempt to make conversation. You push around mashed potatoes and peas as you chew a piece of grilled salmon in your mouth. You refuse to admit to yourself that Tom cooks as good as your dad… considering that your father is an accomplished chef. Seeing how domesticated he is just doesn’t help with the fact that it was your kind of guy. “Going for the salmon instead of the steak…”

“Thank you,” your professor-friend answered back politely as he dabbed a table napkin on the side of his mouth, before placing his fork down. The way he gobbled up his meal as properly as he could only states that the man was exhausted… and it kind of scared you with the way he seemed to gather energy when its already dinner time. What else could he be up to –

You knew the answer even before you sat down that table. It didn’t help with the way he suddenly flicked his eyes in your direction after taking a sip from a glass of water, eyeing you in that lace ensemble you were so hesitant to wear.

“I’m pleased that you’re enjoying the meal,” he whispered considerably, as he leaned back on his chair, those observant eyes intent on surveying your nervous being eating and chewing as politely as you can without showing how hungry you are, despite suddenly losing the appetite knowing that food isn’t even going to matter once he’s done with you for the night.

“I made it especially for you,” he exclaimed with a certain taint of fondness. “Considering that you did mention before that you haven’t tasted fish for quite a long while –“

You raise an eyebrow. “You still remember that?” You put your fork down, impressed. “That’s like almost two years ago… I reckon we were actually having dinner with Liz –“

That’s when Tom cleared his throat, upon the mention of his ex. “Seems like you are done with your meal,” he exclaimed with a sheepish sarcastic smile, causing you to close your mouth. “Souffle?” He then got up on his feet.

You raise your eyebrows and blink, clearly annoyed. “Seems like I’ve been rudely interrupted –“

He had barely even reached the kitchen, when he gracefully turned around and faced you, clearly stating, “You’re not the only one who has been rudely interrupted, my dear.”

You drop your jaw in response to his clever retort, as he boldly went back on his way to the kitchen, grabbing his mittens brusquely to take out the pan he placed earlier in the oven while you were in his room dressing up. _He still clearly isn’t over that scenario we left at the study_ , you thought nervously as you sat like a little girl worried about her father angry at her as he prepared dessert after dinner. _Worse, he may even be bitter about it…_

Lips pursed in a thin line, he turned around and tried to get a hold of his temper. Calming down upon sensing your anxious presence on the candlelit table, he approaches you with much gracefulness and gentleness as he places the delicious-smelling chocolate soufflé in front of you, somewhat making your mouth water.

But somewhat there was a voice inside your head telling you to stop eating, since you have no idea what he put in there (not that you don’t trust him) and it’s too tempting to be true.

He marvels at your reaction on how you try to hide your appetite for the soufflé. Clasping his hands together, he smiles gently as he watched you play with your fork while looking at the tasty chocolate mass as you twirl the utensil around your hand only to place it again.

“You love chocolate soufflé, right?” Tom asks innocently, without any subliminal meaning behind his tone. “I remember cooking Elize a batch and she told me that when she took the remainder home, you literally finished half of it.”

You lick your lips, avoiding his amused gaze. “Well, yes…” You suddenly found yourself raising an eyebrow at him, considering he just talked about his ex, when he blatantly cut you short earlier. “I can’t believe she told you that…”

“Maybe you had an idea why I made her take home almost an entire batch,” Tom laughed, his eyes shrinking into these shining sapphires, as if he was recalling a distant memory. “I could have made another batch for you if you asked me on the spot…”

You stared at the soufflé. You wanted it more than what you had for dinner. There was even a voice at the back of your head saying that he’s doing this to taunt you, tease you, seduce you with a big chocolate cake, trying to make his point – And the more you had to control yourself from taking a bite, the more you withdrew away from the cake out of restraint, out of control, out of pride –

“Why don’t you take a piece, love?” He whispers, clearly enjoying the fact that you tried to abstain yourself from eating as you pushed your fork away.

Sensing this may be a trick and overwhelmed by his hospitality, you decided to have enough for the night… considering that the _soufflé_ was too _sinful_ for you. “I can’t,” you whisper, taking a deep breath, telling yourself to gain control. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”

“But you haven’t even taken a bi –“

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, glaring at him. “I’ll probably take a bite later, but I think I’ve had enough.”

A veil of sadness seemed to have appeared over his face as he leaned back on his chair, looking at the pastry he painstakingly made. A part of you reprimanded yourself that you sounded rude, somewhat rejecting his hospitality. But somewhat, it felt like you are abusing it if you take another bite of the soufflé, and it will be another bargaining piece for him to sleep with you, like Hades offering Persephone a pomengrate.

Sighing, he whispers, “But you did say you loved this kind of soufflé… why refrain from enjoying it?” A small sad smile forms on his face, trying to understand you.

Suddenly it dawns on you. Of all the things he would make for that night, it had to be a full course meal full of your favorite dishes… topped off with a hearty, creamy, chocolate soufflé that always drove you mad whenever your mom would pull it out of the oven. All your cravings and you had the guts and the courage to deny it… it suddenly made sense. The soufflé _was him_.

You turn your hands into fists as you close your eyes, knowing fully that Tom was waiting for you to answer. “It’s not that I don’t want it,” you whisper, trying to calm down. “But it’s just that I had too much and if I take a little bit more, I’ll feel uncomfortable.”

He shook his head. “But as I said – you barely have eaten any. A little bite won’t hurt. Would it?”

You suddenly find yourself chuckling, much to his confusion. As he raised an eyebrow, you push your plate away, still laughing to yourself, wondering why things get to be so ridiculous. “I can’t believe we’re trying to be philosophical about this soufflé, Thomas. But if this is just about what happened in your study –“

He raised a finger, pursed his lips, and pointed it at you; sort of indicating that either you have hit the spot, you finally stopped beating around the bush… or you were crossing the line.

‘That –“ he started, a bit of pain reflected in his eyes. “That was your call.”

You raise your head, indignant. “Of course it was my call!” You argue as he stood up and took a slice out of the soufflé for himself, after trying to offer it to you. “You gave me the power to have my own safe word, you gave me the right to call it quits! If you wanted to take advantage of me, you shouldn’t have put it there in the first place – because it’s my right and I will use it!”

After taking a small bite of the soufflé and chewing miserably in his corner, he turned to look at you, his gaze now filled with disappointment, a bit of contempt, and misery. “I gave you freedom,” he whispered. “But I didn’t expect you would be so heartless…”

You suddenly stand up, pushing your chair back.

Tom looks up at you a bit surprised as you grip the edges of the table, trying not to look at him, as you shook in anger after hearing his statement. As much as you were full, as much as you were somewhat still aching for that soufflé, the tension in the room made you want to throw up as the entire sexual undertones of the discussion and the hurt involved was taking a toll on _both_ of you.

And most of all, amidst all that _tension_ , the dress was starting to make you itch.

“I bought you pudding,” you whisper under your breath. “I wonder if that also makes me someone heartless…”

You didn’t see it, but Tom actually smiled after hearing you admit that you did leave the pudding in front of his study. Also saying that you did see him flirting and being wooed by an adorable undergrad girl.

“You tried to made up for the forgotten dinner last night,” he whispered. “Thank you. That’s why I just wanted to return the favor –“ He then pushes the tray of soufflé towards you, his eyes seemingly pleading for you to take your seat once more.

But as you look at the chocolate’s creamy insides and as its enticing smell filled your nose, you suddenly realize if your “special case of friendship” tied with your contract is only made with _returning favors_ , and that made you sick to your stomach. You turn to look into his eyes and realize that there was something more that you refuse to see…

“Thank you,” you finally say in a polite manner. “But I request if I could change out of this dress first.”

Tom blinks twice. “How come?” He leans on the table, taking a gander at you. “But you look so beautiful in it –“

You involuntarily scratch at your shoulder where there was a red mark formed by its thin strap. “It’s making me feel uncomfortable,” you whisper, as your voice trails off.

You find him eyeing you silently, refusing to give you permission or an order. You wonder why, but then you realize that Tom was drinking your image in, with how the dress clung to your waist, how its v-neck framed your supple breasts, and how it were probably forming those delicate red rashes under your skin, marking you like how he always wanted to claim you –

“It’s such a shame,” he whispers, tearing that burning gaze away from you. “But you look perfect in it.”

You stand there looking exhausted, wondering when this long dinner of mind-games would end.

“You can change in my room,” he whispered, looking away as he leaves his piece of soufflé unfinished, placing his fork beside his plate as he watches the candles flicker. “You can leave the dress on my chair, near my desk.”

Making sure not to sigh out loud, you nod, showing a bit of gratefulness, before you turn around and make for his room.

“Thanks,” you whisper back as you walk away, not noticing how he flicked his eyes in your direction, unwilling to remove that image of you in that laced ensemble in his mind.

 

 

***

 

 

You enter that room that smelled of expensive cologne, fabric softener, candles, and the musk of the man whom you once you considered your dearest friend. But now all memory of him reminds you of butterflies in your stomach that make you want to spit it out, the smell of sex, and an arousal that heats up your center but you don’t want to remember…

And there was that lace dress you were wearing.

You had no idea from where this came from, but you swore that maybe he bought this _just before Liz broke up with him_. To think about it, you and Liz share the same size, you weren’t surprised that the dress fitted you perfectly… But then you wrinkle your nose in disgust realizing that maybe, just maybe… Tom was imagining you as his ex the whole time you were in that dress… Or worse…

You approach the neatly folded pile of your clothes earlier that day – your sweats and old jeans, lying on top of your small messenger bag on the foot of Tom’s bed. _Thank God I’m gonna be back in these,_ you whisper in your head as you pick them up and put them on the bottom board of the bed, as you tuck off a strap of the dress you were wearing off your shoulder –

 

That’s when you heard the obvious _creak_ of the bedroom door behind you… followed by a silent click that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on its end.

You turn around, goosebumps forming on the back of your shoulders… to find Tom with his back pressed to his bedroom door, his chest heaving, as he eyed you hungrily like a wolf that has seen a lone sheep grazing after going hungry for several days.

He straightened up, but the predatory look in his eyes did not fade at all.

“Please don’t take off that dress,” he commanded, that baritone of his voice deep and sultry, something you’re not surprised he can do, considering his reputation in theatre. But despite that knowledge, you felt like you’re about to be hit by a hurricane with how he slowly walked towards you.

“But you just said –“

He shook his head, never blinking, with his eyes just focused on you. You back away and realize that right now, he wasn’t being that kind, gentle, and flirty professor whom you just rolled your eyes at whenever you passed him by the corridor. This wasn’t that friend you exchanged laughs with or passed notes with before and after class, someone you considered both your mentor and colleague.

This was a man dying of thirst, and you were the last oasis on the desert.

He was going to eat you alive.

“I want,” he whispered, pausing as he bit his lip, taking one long stride towards you, as his hand landed gently on your shoulder, as he touched the strap where the lace and your skin burned, as he delicately lifted it up an inch from your skin, as he slipped two fingers underneath… gently running on the red patterns that the lace left on your skin. “I want to take it off myself.”

Your eyes blazed with fire, but you knew you couldn’t fight back. Your back was to the bottom headboard of his bed, and you wouldn’t admit that his visage standing over you, touching you in the gentlest way before _the storm could hit you_ , was robbing you of your breath as you anticipated his every move… even if your mind was afraid of it.

“Don’t make me talk about the smell of the ground after –“

He leaned forward, cutting your words, as you see his parted lips lunging for yours, as you were suddenly interrupted by a rough and forward, wet kiss, enveloping your mouth with a fury you never felt before… not even when he first took you at the first day of the contract.

He released you with a smack, and that was when you realize how close he was, how tightly he was holding your shoulder and your waist, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer this time.

“I’m sorry for being rude, love,” he whispered against your lips, his mouth only inches from yours. “But I’m not going to let you abuse your safeword anymore. You and I know it, and you’ve used it far too much for now…”

Your eyes droop downwards, guilty.

But somehow, with the sudden surge of energy that was going through your body, you couldn’t understand why your knees suddenly went weak and your insides just turned into jelly with the way he clasped your shoulder and held your body like that. You hated to think about it, but the punishment was making you _excited_.

“Now I am going to sit down,” Tom exclaimed as he gently guided you around the bed, holding onto your hands till he was in a position where you were standing up facing him, as he found his place on top of the covers. “And slowly peel this beautiful dress off your body…” He licked his lips now that he could look up from his seated position and glare into your eyes, in the dimly lit room that was brightened up by three scattered candles. “And I will have my way with you.”

You didn’t have the power to nod with the way he rendered you still, but he took your shaky breath as a yes.

Without taking those fucking eyes off yours, he slowly began to slip the delicate straps off your skin… as he slowly ran his lips on the burns left by the patterns of the lace, sliding his tongue down against the slope where your shoulder and your neck met, before suckling gently on a sensitive spot that made you squeal.

Having pulled down both straps, he managed to pull you on top of him, with both of your legs spread over his… the strappy sandals still fixed to your ankles dangling over the bed as his kisses slid lower, and lower… with every moment that he pulled the dress down… till he could see your supple breasts peeking through the lace, behind your lingerie.

You tried not to make noise the entire time, but you felt a jolt of electricity soar through your veins the moment he pressed those wet and yearning lips against your collar bone.

But by the time he peeled all of the lace all of your torso, his lips were already dancing on your cleavage, causing you to emit small sounds of pleasure, even if you never felt so dirty and violated your entire life. But despite all that in your head… _you knew you were enjoying this_. Even more so when he gently cupped your breasts, and slowly unhooked your bra before throwing it to the side…

“What a sight,” He whispered as he stared at your supple breasts in the dim light, with the lace dress still bunched up underneath your abdomen, as the candles danced and flickered its shadows across the room. Luckily it was that dark, and he couldn’t see how much you blushed at the way he looked at you… no longer like a prey about to be devoured, but as a goddess… a deity to be worshipped in kisses.

Without another word, he pressed his lips around one erect nipple, eliciting a gentle moan from you as he bent your back with a free hand.

“Auuuuuuugh,” you cried out as you felt him slowly and painstakingly trace his tongue around your areola in a circle, causing you to struggle against him as you fist a hand into that blonde curly hair…

“Mmmmm,” he moaned against your tit, as his hands found their way to your bum, as he hiked the dress higher up your legs, bunching them around your stomach, while he comfortably kneaded your back cheeks with his hands.

The warmth spread from your breasts down to your center, as you find yourself bent over the tall man who was still humming against your nipple, before stopping to lick a line across your chest, to take your other tit inside his mouth.

“Oh God!” you screamed loud enough for Tom to grab a cheek and bend your body back, as you can feel his erection building against his slacks and grinding against your crotch.

He dangerously flicked his eyes towards your face as you felt him smile against your breast, when you slowly felt his hand moving from your left cheek and towards your inner thigh…

“Jesus –“

You felt a shudder course through your body as you felt those slender fingers brush against your slit. He grunted, pulling his lips off your tits as your hips bucked against his hand, as he tried to part your black-laced panties to gain better access to your wet, dripping cunt –

“Oh darling,” he whispered in a hoarse voice as he brushed a digit or two against your folds, pulling them out to suck on those long slender fingers, your juices still slicked on his digits. “You’re so fucking wet, I think I could take you on right now,” he groaned as you watched his jaw tighten, with his pupils dilating as he focused his gaze on yours.

You couldn’t answer him at all… half of you wanted him to throw you on the bed and spread your legs wide, while half of you wanted him to push you on your stomach and enter you from between your thighs.

You turn even redder upon the realization that no part of you wants not to get fucked that night.

But all you could do was to fist your hands deeper into his hair, tugging at it as he threw his head back, wincing in a bit of pain and slightly enjoying the pressure you were inflicting on him as he thrust his fingers inside your cunt. You emitted a helpless groan as he fucked you with those talented digits, grunting against your skin with every thrust he made with his wrist.

But as much as you tried to gain control of your sexual urges despite those long fingers canting inside of you, hitting your most delicate spots and sending electricity jolts through your veins with every thrust, you were slowly losing control of your inhibitions as you pulled his head from your neck where he left another reddening welt… As you find yourself staring at those glistening thin lips that were begging to be kissed…

And you didn’t understand why you wanted to kiss him all of a sudden.

You stared at him, those glassy blue eyes focused on your body, deepening with desire… those lips parted as he exhaled with every thrust, listening to the rhythm of your body as he violated you, desperately yearning to be melded with you, as he focused on giving you the pleasure you always wanted, the pleasure you never even knew you wanted…

Tom wouldn’t even dare look at you as he stared mesmerized by your body, his fingers continuing to test your mettle, drawing you towards your orgasm. But in the middle of your submission, amidst your weakness of giving in, and feeling hopeless of completely losing your control over to your so-called lover… you stare at him in wonder, as you find yourself admiring how his curls were wrapped around your fingers, how his jaw jerked as he grunted with every thrust he made in between your slick-coated folds…

He was beautiful, no doubt about it. Especially with that partially open dress shirt that gave you a peek of a light fluff of chest hair, covering his sculpted torso… But despite how beautiful he is, and how you tried so hard not to admit this to yourself over the years…

You were scared of one thing: Falling in love.

You were scared of giving yourself to him.

You were scared of letting him know that there was a piece of you that wanted him…

Probably not just physically, but also romantically.

And you know that Tom will jump at the chance to explore this new sense of intimacy in any way he can if he does finds out about it.

And this terrifies you.

 

You squint your eyes and grit your teeth as you thought about this.

Ever since you signed that contract, you knew you were in a whole lot of trouble – sexually, and your feelings may be tied up in a whole new trap if you weren’t careful. But as Tom somewhat owned your word (and your body), you made sure that he wouldn’t own your heart and your emotions. But the more you saw him slave over you, the more you watch your body fall apart in his hands, the more you saw him laboring towards having you reach the highest form of pleasure… The more you fear that you will give in to what he really wants…

You were in the middle of your thoughts and the glaring realization that if you weren’t careful, _you’d fall_ … when Tom suddenly raised his eyes to meet yours, those soulful blues suddenly catching you off guard… as you felt all your power melt away, allowing you to fall apart in his arms like a lifeless ragdoll…

As you gasp with his last thrust, you find him parting his lips even more… as he suddenly leaned close to take your mouth in a deepened kiss…

Your hands fell to grip his shoulders as you felt him smother your mouth, covering your lips with a layer of deepened desire as he tightly shut his eyes and suckled on your lower lip, lacing the insides of your mouth with his tongue, still trying to convince your body to give in to him –

He suddenly disengages as you look up at him in a sleepy haze, as you groan in retaliation once he pulls his fingers from within you, still coated with your juices.

“I can’t –“ he tries to get a grip of himself as he stole one last kiss from your lips. “I can’t hold on much longer –“ You feel his hands dig into your thighs as he shudders.

He looks at you from head to toe, taking in your image of being almost naked… the lace dress bunched up around your stomach, your breasts still begging to be suckled at, with your weakening legs still wrapped around his waist.

Biting down his lips hard, he removes his dress shirt and gently pushes you down on the surface of the bed, as he kneels over you to unbuckle his belt and slide down his pants. Looking at the man work about above you, preparing himself for you as he stripped down till he was bare, you watch him open his drawer to pull out a small square foil… and this somewhat calms you down.

Seeing you sigh, Tom flicks his eyes in your direction… as he brings the foil up to his teeth to tear it open. You felt a shiver run through your body, realizing how erotic he looked… and it didn’t help with those sexually charged feelings you were trying to wrestle with.

“As you requested,” he whispered as he rolled on the clear condom upon that rigid cock, giving himself a gentle tug when he got to the hilt. “I personally wouldn’t want to, but I know you want to stay safe… And I only want to please you.”

You look away, smirking. “It’s the best way really…”

But then when you turn to face him, you suddenly gasp as he quickly moved on top of you, his face coming close to yours as you feel him position his length at your entrance, still teeming with your natural lubricant.

“Anything,” Tom sighed as he brushed the tip of his shaft against your quivering folds. “Anything that would make you feel secure as I make love to you.”

You wince as you feel him slowly pushing the tip of his cock within you. “Make love to me?” you retort. “Don’t you think it’s too early for that?” You grunt again as you feel him entering you, inch by inch… holding hard onto your hips as he gritted his teeth, pulling back a bit because of how tight you were.

“Oh darling,” he whispered through gritted teeth as he began to push himself within you again, causing for your breath to hitch. He let out a gasp upon filling himself to the brim inside of you, as you find yourself being pushed back against the headboard, your insides shaking as you try to accommodate his length and his girth that you never got used to… “I don’t really intend to fuck you…”

He leaned down and stole a soft and tender kiss from your quivering lips once more. “I only want to truly make love to you… Take you bit by bit, be as gentle as I could… but as rough as a beast when you ask me to. I want you to come undone as you should have,” he whispered against your ear, brushing his lower lip against your lobes. “Not without holding back or refusing to cum when I know you really want to…”

You found yourself staring into those eyes, finding comfort when he suddenly pulled himself out of you again, leaving only his head within you.

“Don’t hold back on me tonight, my love,” he whispered as he hovered over you, one hand clutching yours, and another fastened on his headboard. “Because I won’t be holding back on you.”

For some reason, you felt your heart beat harder against your chest when you heard him say that.

But the moment he thrust himself upon you again, you found yourself gritting your teeth and clamping your hand against his back as he completely lost all control and began to quicken his rhythm as he came forth to force himself inside of you, again and again.

For the first time with him, you allowed yourself to lose control.

You threw your head back and let the man smother you with kisses. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he buried his face in what he calls his favorite spot – the crook of your neck where it meets your shoulder as he suckled and sank his teeth against your skin, threatening to leave a mark. He would once in a while bring his head up to gasp, trying to catch his breath as he bucked his hips against yours, his cock driving deeper and deeper within your walls every time he pulled back and thrust back in.

And the man took his damn time, savoring every small noise that escaped your lips, watching your face contort in both pain and pleasure, and fisting his hands into your hair while kissing your lips when he thinks it’s too much for him to watch you enjoy this time all by yourself.

But you couldn’t hold back anymore. The way he touched you, the way he fondled your breasts, and the way he drove himself inside of you again and again as he squirmed and gasped and cried out your name was too much for you to bear, and it felt as if your entire body was shaking with desire and pleasure. You couldn’t pretend not to like it anymore, you couldn’t pretend being shy anymore, not when your entire being just loved being devoured and smothered, especially by none other than Tom.

But what drove you insane was the fact that you knew he was holding back.

Just when he told you not to hold back, you can see it in his face that he was holding back.

With the way he fucked and pounded you, with the way he took your legs, spread it wide, and raised it against his chest, with the pained expression on his face as he tangled his fingers into your hair, gritting his teeth as he fucked you… You knew he was close, but he was holding back. Was it because of fear that you’d stop him again? _No_ , you suddenly realize. He was holding back for you. He was holding back till he knew you were close… close enough that both of you would come at the same time.

You slightly opened your eyes, soft candlelight greeting your sight as you peered at his features, softened by the ambience in the room. His beautiful body was now glistening with sweat, and you can see his chest heaving with every thrust and every movement of his hands on your body.

He still had you pinned down on his bed, as you have tugged and pulled at his bed spreads in an attempt to find purchase for that ecstasy and desire boiling down inside of you as he took you for what you were worth. That infamous lace dress that started it all was still wrapped around your stomach, despite your breasts and lower parts exposed, slowly being drenched with the sweat of your body. _He’s going to have to throw this in the wash or throw it away_ , you thought as you gasped and whimpered under his touch. _Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d keep it_ …

By then he has opened those blue eyes and were looking at you so fondly as he paused in the middle of his movements to lean over you and brush the hair out of your eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he suddenly whispered, causing you to blush and look away from his gaze as he reveled in your shyness, smiling as he kissed your neck once more.

Leaning over you, pressing his body against you, cherishing your closeness, you only realize that he couldn’t hold back any further when he started pressing those soft lips against your cheeks and on the side of your mouth.

“I can feel you’re close,” he whispered, and you knew he wouldn’t lie. With his change in position allowed him to enter you deeply, with your legs pressed against his chest, as you were suddenly amazed by how limber you are as they dangled high up. With every thrust, you can feel your walls contracting, threatening to milk him for what he’s worth. And he secretly loves this.

“Won’t you come for me, little one?” he said in a breathy gasp. “Won’t you share this little thing with me?”

Having the knowledge that he’s fucking you with a condom, gave you comfort that somehow you won’t end up where you expected the last time. But with the way he looked at you with those pleading puppy-dog eyes and the way his hands smoothed down in between your legs to brush teasingly against that bundle of nerves that will send you right into oblivion… your fear of losing yourself to him suddenly caused your chest to tighten once more.

“T-Tom, I –“

You couldn’t even air out your fear as he suddenly swooped down and captured your lips with his, somewhat sensing your hesitation as you felt your entire being shake with the onset of your orgasm, despite your attempt to hinder it or even delay it. But admit it, with what he was doing, with how he was looking at you, and how he was making you _feel_ … You didn’t stand a chance.

“Darling, please,” he breathed, gasping as he spoke against the corner of your mouth, releasing his kiss. “Not this time –“

“I can’t –“

“Let me have at least this little piece of you –“

“I-I’m not ready –“

You denied it but you swore you saw his eyes water. You were about to open your mouth, take back everything, tell him that it doesn’t matter, tell him that you didn’t care (even if at the back of your mind you realize that you may be aggravating the situation) – when he suddenly shut his eyes tight, hold you close… and you helplessly watched him climax all by himself.

As his shivers and whimpers began to disappear, and you feel stiff and rigid with the way he was holding you – his hands fisted in your hair, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and him breathing down your clavicles… You felt a shiver go through your spine as he hesitantly disengaged himself from you, giving you the space you always wanted.

Surprised, and slightly shocked with the turn of events as he lay beside you, trying not to look at you as you caught your breath, you suddenly turn to your side to hide the fact that your orgasm just struck you the moment he pulled out… Striking your every being, sending jolts from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair, you lie in a fetal position, holding yourself as you sank your nails into the fabric underneath your breasts, trying to still yourself as your entire body shook.

You didn’t know how Tom stirred beside you, suddenly realizing what you were going through.

His hand twitched, wanting to comfort you. He wanted to take you into his arms, bury his face into your hair, and cover your neck with kisses as he holds you while you blank out and succumb to the sexual climax he has inflicted on you…

But seeing the panic in your eyes, the hesitation on your face, and the way your heart beat fast as he pressed his chest against yours gave him the message that you didn’t like what he was doing… He whispered in his head that he felt like he violated you in worst things possible when he came without letting you know. And seeing the way you stiffened up when he did, he felt as if he lost your consent… And this somewhat broke him.

He raised his hand, wanting to comfort you, to cuddle you as you tried to get a hold of your own orgasm – the one you deliberately hid from him… but upon realizing this, Tom retracted his hand and turned to his side, holding himself as he shut his eyes and ignored the hot tears that streamed down his face.

 

 

***

 

 

You never fell asleep swifter than you ever did, save for that one time you did an all-nighter for work and when the morning came (thanks to a friend who let you sleep over and some chamomile tea) you were knocked out like a log chopped in the forest.

But you knew you had to wake up.

The first thing you did was to concentrate on removing the lace dress still clasped around your belly, as you drew back the covers that magically appeared over your body through the night. Slipping into your clothes, you check that it was barely 6am, and you quickly pick up your bag in an attempt to slip out of the room before your professor-friend wakes up.

As most of the candles were extinguished, the one on his bedside remained lit.

You looked back and found peace within yourself as you noted how peaceful he looked as he slept to his side, covers bunched up to his chest, his hand tucked under his pillow, with that wonderful curly hair spread over it.

But as you left, one thing bothered you and made you feel so guilty… it was the tear stains you found on his face.


	9. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to face reality as your real life issues hound you in the face. For instance: your school bills. Can Tom help you with this dilemma? Can his contract save you from your financial crisis? And things get complicated when things turn into a _triangle_.

_To Miss ___________,_

_This is a reminder of your account balance that needs to be settled towards the end of the semester. Also enclosed is a statement of your previous fees that need to be settled along with the current outstanding fees of this semester. Enclosed is a full statement of account for your reference._

_Please arrange payment of this account today or, if you cannot make full payment at this time, please contact us to make a payment arrangement that is mutually acceptable._

_Your prompt attention to this matter would be greatly appreciated. If you have any queries regarding this account, please contact our office as soon as possible._

_If payment has recently been made, please accept our thanks and ignore this reminder._

_Regards,_

 

_Mrs. Agatha Price_

_Accounting Department Chair_

 

 

 

It came too early, that was what you were thinking about.

Amidst all your requirements, the numerous mid-term papers you had to do, the various monologues you had to deliver, and the reviews you had to write for all those books that you had to get SparkNotes of because you didn’t have all the time in the world to read all of them when you are juggling real life problems along with academics, when the latter should be your secondary priority.

But upon seeing the outstanding bill from your previous semester during your financial crisis, topped off with your current fees… you suddenly felt as if the world crashed on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of your final paper research when you felt like your hands were shaking as you opened up the website for your online banking, biting on your nails as you tried to reconcile the difference between your current savings (that also covered your current outgoing expenses) and the bill that was typed in big bold numbers on the crisp legal paper.

Unfortunately, you were probably a hundred bucks short... and you had no idea where the hell you could get a hundred bucks at such a short notice.

But then... there was one other thing you were working on.

 

 

 

***

 

 

“Alright then, shall we do our review on Shakespeare’s sonnets –“

 

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

 

Tom found himself looking blankly at his study group that were composed of Sophomores that were training for their English History finals, a bunch of Juniors who claim that they were flunking their Drama classes (when in fact they wanted to look at his face and muse about how his lips move), and a couple of promising Drama Majors who were falling behind due to their extra-curriculars that had them running around the country in the acting jobs they have been doing for the past months.

Smiling feebly as he excused himself, he opened the door to the musty abandoned Theatre Room in the Old Library Building that wasn’t frequented by students anymore due to its haunted stories and the murky smell of the libraries, only to find you standing in front of his door, completely at a loss of what to say, as you clutched that crisp white envelope you got that morning.

“Hello love,” the way he whispered those words made you look up and find a bit of hope in your anxious self, as you find his blue eyes soften upon seeing you. “How can I help y –“

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” you say quickly, wondering what gave you the courage to approach the man whom you currently had issues getting intimate with, despite that contract you two signed upon, with the current issue of intimacy being thrown under the rug in exchange for peace, harmony, and maybe a few reassuring cuddles that only made you feel guilty. “But I really need to have a word with you.”

Tom found himself biting his lip as he turned around to find nine pairs of eyes looking intently at him, including the young redheaded girl with obvious freckles and a thick rim of glasses, as they noticed the Graduate Program student standing by the door looking nervous as ever – as if she was about to beg the Drama Professor for a higher grade.

“This won’t take long,” he exclaimed, straightening his glasses, looking at his class. “Discuss with your partners about the earlier readings, I’ll be right back.”

Closing the door behind him, he gently places an arm around your waist as his hands gently linger on the small of your back, as he walked with you across the wide hall as you both stopped in front of the closed, old dusty Victorian-style windows, with broken glass surfaces that have been shut and bonded throughout the years in the fear that they’d fall out. Turning to you, those sapphire eyes tried to peer into yours as he worriedly asked, “What’s the matter darling?”

Biting your lip, you clutch the white envelope tightly enough to form creases on the surface as you mutter, “When is the Rosencratz Application Deadline?”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly wondering why this suddenly came up as he quickly answers much to your relief. “It was due a week ago.”

You felt like your heart just took a dive into the juicy bile of your stomach. “What?!”

You suddenly feel yourself shake.

“You should have told me –“

“I didn’t know I was late –“

“Oh my God I should have passed the application –“

His hands gliding up your shoulders, quickly pinpointing your pressure spots that he often touches when you start becoming tense, Tom tries to calm you down with reassuring words. “Haven’t I told you before that I’ll take care of all of the requirements for that?” he exclaimed, trying to get you to look into his eyes.

“Candidates are often assessed and passed by their sponsors mid-semester and end of semester,” he reassured you, his large hands softly cupping your cheek. “I filed your application a week earlier, as we both have agreed upon,” he gently whispered. “And just as I have promised.”

Noticing the way you seemed to have calmed down, despite the trace of panic in your eyes, with a bit of tears forming within them, considering that you were literally out of ideas, even planning to start calling up your Panic List, where people whom you believe will lend you money are listed. “Why are you so worried, darling?” Tom whispered, his thumb brushing across the apple of your cheeks. “You’re shaking again –“

As his hand smoothed from your right shoulder, tracing a pattern down your arm… he found himself easing out the letter from your hand.

You barely even notice it, as you suddenly find yourself wondering why you were worried about the applicationin the first place… when you completely forgot how reliable Tom was.

You completely forgot that he was the meaning of organized and dependable. Before all of this, you could count on him on providing you the Powerpoint Lectures from Dr. Olson’s class, considering that he was good friends with the IT of the Department who kept all the copies of the Professor’s presentations. Before all this, Tom would be reminding you (in the middle of the hall) when clearance would be, considering that Graduate Program students have a later date compared to undergrads. He’d let you borrow his old books, and even let you keep them from months on end. He was the kind of friend you’d keep forever, considering that he’d get things _done…_ But what you don’t realize is that it was all for a _reason_ …

But then, you remember why you didn’t want to tell him.

“Oh darling,” he suddenly exclaimed, his eyebrows furrowing as those eyes behind those thick specs were suddenly filled with concern as he read through your letter from Accounting. “Why didn’t you tell me about this…” He looked up at you, completely stinging you with that kindness in those cornflower-blue eyes, making you feel guilty even more, considering everything you despise about the agreement between you two. And the fact the kindness in his eyesdoes not mirror what you think he truly is because of how he acts based on the contract, infuriates you even further.

“I could have taken care of this –“

“You don’t need to –“

“All you need to say is one simple world, ______ love,” he whispers your name like something made of silk.

“No –“

You clutch your hands into fists and bring them down, gritting your teeth and startling him, as he lowered his hands still holding your letter. Unclenching your jaw, you finally find the courage to say the words you wanted to say.

“All I need, is the scholarship,” you say firmly, parting your lips, avoiding his eyes in hopes that it will not send you through another blackhole of guilt. “I don’t want to bother anyone with more dues, I don’t have the guts to ask for money… _all I need is an official sponsor._ ”

Tom takes a deep breath, his eyes searching you, realizing how this truly was important to you. He understood that it wasn’t just a matter of priorities, but it was also a matter of pride. And being someone driven by honor, despite his utter mischievousness, he understand exactly how precious is pride to people… especially people like you who didn’t have much to hold on to.

You look up to meet those empathic eyes with your desperate ones, as you feel all the frustration and emotions rising up your chest… as you realize that this is the best time to express everything you’ve been truly feeling for the past few weeks… Or better yet, tell him about how you truly feel about this little deal that you struck between the two of you.

“Tom,” you could feel your breath hitch and your voice shake as you mention his name, but you have no idea how it sends a shiver up his spine whenever his name escapes yours. “Have I been— Have I been good?”

He blinks, seemingly confused for a moment, dazed by how you firmly addressed him. “I beg your pardon?”

Taking a deep breath, realizing that despite the confusion, you know that you’ve got his attention and you finally find the courage to continue. “I have pledged myself to our cause,” you speak, not realizing the gestures you were making, making yourself more authentic. “I have catered to your every whim, as I have tried to please you with whatever deed you want me to do.”

Parting his lips, the Professor stood before you, seemingly trying to absorb your words and trying to figure out where your conversation is going.

“I have tried to please you,” you whisper, and _only God knows how much you tried to please him_ , you thought. “I have honored your requests, your wishes, and have tried my best to treat you with kindness…”

You find yourself wincing at the last statement, knowing that you have been trying to mend and tiptoe around the fact that you weren’t ready to be intimate with him at some lengths… And with seeing the pain in his eyes at that moment and every time you deny him of what he wants, you just knew that you had to be extra careful with your own actions so not to aggravate the situation between you, Thomas, and your contract.

“I do my best not to violate your rules and in turn I try to strictly comply with whatever you ask of me…” you continue talking to him in strict confidence, in the seemingly empty hall, as the Professor listens to you as if you’re the only thing that exists, and you’re the only thing he can hear. “All I ask,” you say pleadingly. “Is that you help me secure the Rosencratz Scholarship for me…”

As you finish, you find Tom pursing his lips.

You carefully look up at him, trying to read his expressions, but at the moment… he wasn’t making any. In fact, he looked at you as if he was deep in thought, those blue eyes searching you for a trace of insincerity or mockery. But all of a sudden, he took your hand by surprise, pressing the Accounting letter against it… as he closed your hand on it, forming even more creases on its already dilapidated surface.

“One day,” he whispered to you. “You will no longer need this.”

You found yourself suddenly speechless… especially when he brought your other hand up to his mouth, pressing those lips against your knuckles, as it made you wonder why the gesture suddenly send a crisp jolt of lightning from your arm to the center of your spine.

“Darling, I’ve got you covered,” he exclaimed sweetly, despite the stern expression, and the deeply probing eyes. “I’ve always got you covered. Remember that. I’ll take care of everything, you need not bat an eyelash…”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, the laugh vibrating gently against your hand still pressed against his mouth. “Except when I request you to…” he whispered, licking his lips… the wet tongue gently flicking against your knuckle. You know he did not intend this, or do it on purpose, but the sensation just made your body warm up, as if it was seeking even more heat during a cold winter night.

Releasing your hand, you find him cupping your chin as he tipped your head, causing you to look up at him properly, seeing those cornflower-blues suddenly filled with so many annotations of fondness, and a tinge of hope that somehow jumpstarted a cold icy fear that was hidden in the depth of your heart.

“Please, love,” he whispers. “Trust me.”

You pry your eyes from his, unable to stare any further into those eyes that literally burned with passion.

“Can you do this for me?” Tom asks. “Can you trust me?”

You find yourself nodding, not risking your heart skipping another beat by peering into that window to his soul that literally gave away everything he was thinking and feeling at that time, despite trying to maintain a straight face… a straight yet tender face. “I will,” you find yourself speaking. “I think I have to…”

You felt him chuckle as he takes both of your hands in his. “That’s my girl,” he says amusedly as you find yourself smiling at the diminished tension between you two, as you suddenly felt your mind be filled with serenity and assurance, knowing that you will get your end of the deal.

But you were completely off your guard when he suddenly lifted your head and suddenly suppressed your parted lips into a kiss.

Your eyes widen as your entire body was suddenly on high alert, realizing that the man has just kissed you in public – _on school grounds even_. But as you found yourself rudely observing the beautiful length of his eyelashes brushing against your cheek, you close your eyes trying to assure yourself that the Old Building isn’t often frequented by students… save for those who were currently in the other room, with the front door closed.

Tom gently releases your lips with a smack, making you realize how he was able to moisten your dry and parched lips caused by your endless panicking earlier with just a quick kiss. Looking down at you gently, he bends down again to kiss your cheek.

“I’ve got to get back in there,” he tells you, confident that he has settled your panic attack. You assure him that everything was fine, and that your dilemma has been settled as you gingerly nod your head, finding some sort of a new discovered fondness for your Professor-friend.

Tom hesitantly released his hold on your hands and on your face, as he turned around with his back to you, approaching the theatre room door. “I’ll see you later then,” he says cheerfully, to which you nod. With a gentle smile, he composes himself, before entering and then closing the door behind you.

You find yourself gently touching your lips as you thought about how the man managed to render you calm with just tender words and a soft kiss. Part of you swore that you were falling into a deep and dangerous feeling, but what you called as your logical side sarcastically praised the man’s manipulative ways and his prized acting skills. You found yourself torn between sneering and sighing, as you pocket the Accounting letter, as you turn around on your heels, to walk down the hall and go back to your business.

But what you found standing at the end of the hall, privy and audience to the tender moment you shared with Professor Hiddleston…

…was a man in his sweatshirt, unruly brown hair, and shocked green eyes that seemed to appraise you in repugnance as he looked at you from head to toe.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“Mattie,” you felt yourself exclaim in the middle of trying to catch your breath. “Please –“

You heard your classmate sneer as he passed by a wall of books, heading straight for the Restricted Section at the end of the room. You found yourself following Matthew all the way to the Old Theatre Library in the Old Building, after he completely walked out on your flushed aura standing in front of the Theatre Room after Professor Hiddleston has just disappeared behind those doors…

“Mattie please,” you beg the classmate you secretly adored the entire time, ever since the day you found yourself talking to him when you both found out that you were in the same Humanities Graduate Program. You couldn’t even stop gaping at him when you found out that he was actually a Professional Thespian. A true blue Thespian…

“Tell me please,” you plead. “What did you hear?”

You hear someone you passed by a long table trying to shush you… and that was when you realized you were in a library. Crumpling the Accounting Letter in your pocket, you pass by the small door that framed the entrance to the musty old Restricted Section, trying to get your classmate to answer your questions.

However, Matt was completely cloaked in silence, despite lugging his backpack on the lone wooden table with three old seats in the middle of the enclosed library area.

“I can’t believe you sold yourself to Hiddleston,” he said bitterly, those green eyes glinting with what you believed to be jealousy.

“It’s not what you think,” you exclaim, biting your lips, swearing that you drew blood. Pursing your lips as you watched him stand with his back against this huge wall of banned Encyclopaedias, crossing his arms as he appeared to listen to you… despite that grim and stern expression on his face. Despite that, the fact that he looked upset, somewhat made your heart leap. And this time… you’re not disgusted to admit the way you’re feeling.

“If you’d let me explain –“

“If you can explain why you’re liplocking with a Professor in school grounds,” he says. “Well fine by me, it’s not really my business –“ he says bitterly, to which you raise an eyebrow, realizing that it wasn’t really his business. But with the fact that he was sulking about it, made butterflies caged within your chest for months, flutter wildly. “But of all the professors –“ he said, wincing. “You just had to choose him? Hiddleston? Jesus, woman –“

You find yourself shrugging as you raised both your hands, trying to defend yourself, but only for no words to escape your mouth. “I –“ you felt yourself croak, completely lost for words.

Exactly. Why Hiddleston?

You felt yourself wince.

Sure he is one of the youngest, authentic, and most attractive Professors on campus… but it’s not really your fault that you knew him even before you entered as a Graduate Program student.

Sure he is one of the most charismatic personalities in the Faculty, one often hounded upon by other female students… but it didn’t really help that you consider him as your best-friend at one point in your life, and he can return the sentiments…

You grit your teeth realizing that despite the many alibis you can think of about your little “affair” with Thomas, you don’t really have a legal reason to why you _shouldn’t_ be with him…

And this made the cage of butterflies in your chest drop into your stomach, melting them all.

“You’re doing this for the grades, aren’t you?” Mattie’s deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts, making you frown even further.

“No!” You find yourself exclaiming violently and in a hushed tone, remembering that you’re in a library. “I’m not doing it for the gra –“ You find yourself tearing at your hair as you moved towards him, stalking towards the 5’9” boy. “Listen,” you exclaim once you got a grip of your temper. “It’s not exactly what you think – okay? I’m – I’m doing errands and requests for Professor Hiddleston, and I happen to be one of his acting subjects…” You find yourself gritting your teeth once more, wondering how far this lie can go. But the fact that you were hiding the truth, lying about the Rosencratz Scholarship, lying about your sexual contract… and the fact that you’re lying to this man you deeply adore, was too much for you to bear.

“There’s nothing special going on between me and Tom, alright? It’s all… business.”

But even that is a lie.

However, despite appearances, Matthew still looks at you with probing green-eyes, trying to separate the truth from fabrication with what you just said. You felt yourself sink your shoulders in defeat, realizing that maybe… you’d lose _this one_ forever…

But to your surprise, he suddenly approached you… as you found yourself hitting another wall of books, looking up at his tall gait, as he then looked down at you with calculating eyes.

“Maybe you can at least owe me this answer,” he whispered, putting a hand on the bookshelf behind you. Blinking your eyes, you find your nose almost pressed against his broad chest, taking in his musk completely… as you try to figure out if he’d been practicing his monologues all afternoon, or was working out at the gym as he once told you. For some reason, trying to figure it out just made your senses _burn_. You look up to find that his green eyes were burning too.

“Do you have any feelings for him?”

Stupidly, you blink at him with the way he invaded your space… and with the fact that you _liked it_. “For who?”

You never saw him sneer before, but with the way he did, you felt your temperatures rise. “I was talking about Tom,” he growled.

The moment you heard _that_ name, you swore that you were momentarily snapped out of your red-colored haze as the man stood right in front of you, blocking your way, and shadowing the rest of your presence with his own. But despite how he tried to squeeze the answer to his question out of you with the tension he was extending on you and by the way he intimidated you… you just _can’t seem to find the answer to that query about Tom_.

“I –“

“You do realize,” Matthew exclaims, lowering his head towards you. “That having an affair with a member of the faculty is against the Student’s Code of Conduct…” The way the words escaped his mouth just sounded like honey being poured all over your tongue as he moved at an angle where his face were only inches from yours, as you were unable to hide a gasp escaping your lips.

You have never seen him this forward or this aggressive before, considering the fact that he literally stole your breath away… standing only inches from you, provoking you with the delicate information he witnessed and gathered about you… But unlike the fear _someone_ would instill in you when they become sexually forward (at least you think it was fear, but you would realize later on it was mixed with something else), the emotions you felt for Mattie was different as you felt his hand cupping your chin.

Clenching your jaw, you shoot back at him, “Honey, we’re in the Graduate Program. That Code of Conduct does not apply to us.” Despite the distress and defiance in your voice, the way you moved towards him, the way you arched your body closer, told him otherwise.

To your surprise, your classmate just smiled slyly, clucked his tongue and shook his head.

“I always looked up to Tom,” he whispered, those green eyes slightly shying away. “He’s the finest resource in the Drama Department, and he’s got a charisma that gets students to stop and listen to him… and I’m not talking about his horde of female students following him at every move…”

You look up at him, sensing a hint of envy in his voice, making you realize that Matt may look up to Tom, but he clearly is envious of his talents… Envy and admiration can somehow be interspersed, considering that Mattie did tell you a long time before when you ended up talking about the finest teachers in the faculty… how he aspires to become just like Tom in the field of acting and drama, even if the latter did prefer to pursue having a career in the academe instead of fully chasing his dreams to be on stage… or on film.

“But despite being a role model, I couldn’t believe that he would take advantage of his students this way…” he said, grunting with disgust. “And to think that I held him in high regard,” he said through gritted teeth. “I just couldn’t sit idly by and see my best friend being _taken advantage_ of.”

Suddenly, the fire within you died down. You found yourself looking away from him, as his words sank in… and parts of you disagreed with it. “Thomas isn’t abusing me,” the words that escaped you surprised you even. Your friend may say its Stockholm Syndrome, but then you remember that _he does not know the entire story_. “It was my own volition to approach him and perform these _requests_ , Matthew.” Your eyes met with his. “I _wanted_ it.”

Sarcastically chuckling, Matt then said, “I suppose you also _want_ others to know about this little affair of yours?”

Your eyes seemed to have darkened upon hearing his words. Having to hide your contract was one thing, having everyone discover the complicated relationship you shared with your Professor-friend was something completely out of hand. And to think that you claim that all of it – the gestures, the exchanges of affection, the inanimate intimacy… you try to believe that they aren’t real… And the women. You can imagine the hoard of jealous undergrads looking at her direction every time you step on campus, and the thought of it terrifies you.

“No,” you find yourself mouthing, shaking your head. “No…”

His moves were fluid now, sly and seductive, as he stared you down with those emerald eyes, seemingly mocking you and wooing you at the same time. “No?” he cooed sarcastically. “So you don’t mind if _our_ _friends_ find out how you were snogging the Professor they’d like to shag in a dark alley in the Old Building? You don’t want the most esteemed scholars and researchers on our batch to find out that you’re getting cozy with the Drama Professor? Oh dear,” he clucked his tongue. “What if the _entire school finds out?_ ”

You bite your lip, his own mouth only inches from yours. “You wouldn’t dare,” you hiss at him.

The boy smirked and said, “I couldn’t make any promises…” He leaned to whisper in your ear as his lips brushed nonchalantly against your cheek, causing a shiver to run up your spine. “But maybe a little gesture will convince me to do otherwise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you talking about –“

His answer was flat, yet the way his breath hitched made you almost gasp. “A kiss.”

The smirk on Matthew’s face was intoxicating. He had you gritting your teeth, trapped and nowhere else to go, to a point that _his strategies seem to remind you of someone else_. You feel your chest tighten, your breath hitch, and your body warm up as a tense silence hang above the two of you. Never have you been attracted to anyone like this before, or maybe you’re just attracted to him because of _whom he reminds you of_ … and it terrifies you.

But despite the awkwardness that mingles with the sexual tension you share with your Professor-friend, there was something refreshing with how you felt towards this man, your emotions flowing down from your chest like a melding heartburn that warms up your center and engulfs you entire being… wanting more of him.

You glare at him, your eyes now focused with his, as you find yourself digging your claws into the hem of the collar of his shirt, as he slipped a hand around your waist, the two of your performing a small synced operation where your bodies began to fit and complement each other, not to mention the way your face tilted and moved towards his, threatening a kiss.

He parts his lips, darting towards yours, only to pull back, smiling.

You completely lose all your inhibitions as you tug at his collar and slip your hand from his neck towards his hair as you pull him close and capture your lips with his, snogging him horribly like a man who drank water for the first time in days after being denied that need.

Never have you eaten up someone’s mouth like this before, and completely forgetting that you should keep it down considering that the two were you in the library. You could tell that the boy shares the same thirst as you as he found himself slamming you against the shelf, books hindering your fall as he grasped your waist and pulled at your hair, angling your head in a direction where he can freely devour your lips and getting full access to the inside of your mouth.

You on the other hand loosened your fingers tangled in his hair as you whimpered against his mouth with the way Matthew roughly kissed you, wondering when was the last time you wanted a man this bad… But with the way he roughly handled you and pulled at your locks, you could only run your nails down the contour of his back, forming red lines against his hidden skin underneath his thin shirt.

Drowning in your classmate’s embrace and passion, the two of you did not notice a figure that was holding a “Restricted Section” pass, barely even setting a foot through the door only to back off realizing that two adults were busy making out in the corner of the maze of books. A redheaded girl with prominent freckles, eyed the two of you warily, considering that she just came from the Theatre Room after a remedial, taking note of what she just saw before inching away from the heated scene you and Mattie created.

 

 

 

***

 

 

Never have you felt that giddy.

Everything was right with the world, you find yourself being attracted towards a boy who had the same feelings for you, and you had a kiss shared with him to sort of seal the deal. You had to catch your breath in each other’s arms for a few moments in the Restricted Section for a few minutes, before you both decided to move to an empty classroom at the back of the Old Building that was never occupied so that you could continue sucking each other’s faces off. Despite the way you physically explored each other with your clothes on, Mattie decided that it was too early to cross the line and be that physical, so you both silently cement this newfound complicated relationship before the two of you with one soft, gentle, and romantic kiss before you decided to put a hold on the torrid kissing for the meantime.

Being the goofy gentleman that he is, Mattie decided to treat you out for coffee, and had the barista design a cute kitty for your latte. As much as he is a ferocious lover when he held you in the darkness of the abandoned classroom, it amuses you how utterly adorable he is when he’s just being himself… in public… with you. So adorable, to a point that both of you ended up giggling at each other when he got a bit of foam on his nose. You couldn’t help but lick it off… causing the man to suddenly grab your face and enclose your lips in a kiss again.

Even when he brought you to your flat, he couldn’t stop kissing you.

To a point that you had to drop your bags and you had to allow him to push you against the wall at the back of your apartment, as he smothered your mouth with his while you played with his hair, twirling it around your fingers with your arms wrapped around your shoulders.

He gave you one last kiss for the day before leaving you at your doorstep, saying that he couldn’t wait to kiss you again the next day.

You fell asleep that night exhausted, completely drowned in bliss and your happy, giddy feelings, completely forgetting about _everything else_. You were wearing the same grin you had the night before as you walked into the center hall of the Department of Humanities, a bounce in your step and a bright smile on your face as if you didn’t have dues to pay, didn’t have classes to attend to, didn’t have papers to pass and deadlines to meet, or _a contract to fulfill_ …

However, the first thing that snapped you out of your bliss-filled state of mind was the curious group of students gathered around a bulletin board, all possibly tiptoeing to get a glimpse of something posted on the widely spread cork board in the middle hall that was the crossroads towards the Foreign Languages Department and the English Department, with the Faculty Study just a few rooms away. Curious yourself, you decide to approach the crowd and take a glimpse, as you wondered whether there was a new opening for a Student Assistant, or a new professor hired, or a notice for an off-shore Study Trip – you just had to find out.

But the moment you started tiptoeing around the students in front of you, trying to get a better glimpse of the board, as they turned around to look at you and let you through… you slowly see them step away and part the crowd for you, with undergrads looking at you and whispering to each other as you find your way towards the board, getting a clearer look at what they were looking at.

 

It was a thin brown paper stapled to the board with typewriter font printed on the surface.

Its message was simple and straight to the point.

And it detailed the short list of applicants approved for the Rosencratz Scholarship.

 

You felt your heart skip a beat as you quickly approached it, searching the short list of candidates, wondering if… You knew exactly what you were wondering about. In fact, you were clearly worrying about this specific problem the day before that you had to go rush into the Study Group of your friend and interrupt their session –

You felt your world freeze as an unusual relief settled in your stomach when you find your name on the list.

But as much as you found your peace, you suddenly felt a shiver go up your spine…

Realizing that maybe everything was going to go fine…

That maybe your friend was true to his word…

And maybe Tom was serious about all of this.

 

The whispers and soft chatters of the undergrads and a few GP students surrounding the board began to be drowned out as you tried to get a grip of reality, realizing that you were going to get something out of that contract after all… but you needed to take things seriously too and whatever was coming your way. It didn’t help that while you stared at your name on the board, it was followed with this information written in fine print…

 

_Ms. ______________

_(Elected and Sponsored by: Thomas W. Hiddleston, Drama Department)_

 

The sight of it just made you shiver all over.

Suddenly, as you stood there… you realized how your life was going to change, starting from that point.

With this piece of information, you would be expected to act accordingly. Considering that it was indicated that as your sponsor, there is a legal connection between you and Thomas, and this only required you to display that sense of relationship with your professor friend. With the first part of the Rosencratz Scholarship underway, part of the contract couldn’t be kept secret if you want the legality and authenticity of the _relationship_ you both need to display for the approval of the Scholarship you’re aiming to attain. And that part of the contract is the fact that you both had to act like a couple…

As the thought of it brought a shiver down your spine… part of your train of thought reminded you of your current fling with your classmate. Despite an afternoon and night full of passion (even if you haven’t brought it to the bedroom just yet), suddenly you have this fear that it would be harder to get intimate with Mattie whom you had _real feelings for_ (even if you repeatedly told yourself that your “feelings” and “emotions” for Tom are just _fabricated_ , we all know you’re lying to yourself)… if you had to be Tom’s _declared partner_.

The truth dawned on you so slowly as you learned it the hard way how _everything comes with a price_.

With this truth sinking into your being, you stand there in front of the board thinking ahead of yourself, suddenly wanting to disappear, to go away, to leave the premises immediately, go to a quiet place where you can think without being bothered, reassess everything you put yourself through, disappear before –

 

“ _There you are, love!_ ”

You felt all the color drain on your face as you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to turn around when you suddenly realized that you probably shouldn’t have… as you find _him_ staring down at you, with those smiling blue-eyes and a grin that went from ear to ear, probably overjoyed that you finally found the giant present he left out for you underneath the humongous tree on Christmas morning.

As much as you wished it was Mattie, it wasn’t.

And despite the sickening feeling in your stomach, the gasps exchanged by the undergrads surrounding you, the thousand prying eyes… you couldn’t help but agree with them how he looked _gorgeous_ with his newly shaven look, his often unruly blonde hair gelled back, his brown-framed specs complimenting the brown waistcoat he was wearing over a light blue dress shirt.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Tom exclaimed, soft enough to be a whisper, but loud enough for the surrounding people to hear, as he beamed at you as if you’re the best thing that happened to you that day… even if you were busy thinking about him, and blatantly comparing him to another man in your mind…

“To –“

You barely even completed the words that were supposed to come out of your mouth, when he suddenly slipped his arms around you and leaned down to take your lips into a kiss, as you widened your eyes in surprise… and eventually shock upon realizing that he just kissed you in the middle of a crowd filled with students, all surrounding students – students who were new to the department, students who knew him, students who were actually in his class, students who aspired to be him, students who adored him, and some who even pined after him. And he kissed you in _front of all of them_.

You felt your insides melt as lines ran past your head, thinking faster than how slow and sensual his lips moved across yours, this kiss being no different from those gentle, tender kisses he often stole from you within the confines of his room, his flat, and his study. However, your mind was filled with concerns, precautions and preliminary panic of the entire situation for you to fully enjoy how he took his damn time to tilt your head with the tip of his fingers, closing his eyes as he savored the taste of your lips, your tongue… after having less of it ever since you had that dinner at his flat.

The thought of it just turned you red as you remained in that loving position in your arms, your emotions being mixed with being overwhelmed by the entire turn of events and slowly sinking down in panic during the entire duration of his gentle display of affection…

He disengaged as you found yourself blinking gently, looking up at him with hooded eyes, not noticing how flushed you look with how he just gently and publicly declared his affections for you with a single gesture. Subtly catching your breath, you held on to his arms as you found yourself looking around, surprised with the way the majority of the students around you reacted as you find most of them looking at the two of you adorably, their hands on their chests, eliciting a gentle “ _Awwww!_ ” by the time he disengaged from the kiss.

But as you looked around, suddenly feeling small and giddy with the positive reception of the entire display of affection, the sunshine on your face suddenly disappeared when you spotted Matt’s disapproving and disappointed face in the crowd… as he looked away once you caught his eye. Parting your lips and releasing your professor-friend’s arms as you tried to call out Matthew’s name – you suddenly felt yourself trapped in Tom’s arms as he held you close, his lips brushing against your cheek as you watched your classmate turn around and leave the crowd, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Darling,” the deep baritone of Tom’s voice snapped you back to reality. “Checkmate.”

You find yourself looking up in those mischievous blue eyes, wondering if his entire _show_ in front of the crowd gathered in front of the Humanities Bulletin Board had any sincerity in it. A small smirk forming on the side of his mouth, only visible to you, he then leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“Your move now, love.”


	10. Oral Confidentiality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's not too happy with the Rosencratz announcement. But someone's not too happy either when they turn up late for a lecture.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so proud of you!”

“Of you two!”

“You should have told me that you were dating Thomas,” your previous Foreign Languages teacher who happened to be one of your upperclassmen when you were back in University sat in front of you as she offered you hot tea. “We were worried about him being chased all over campus by all those frivolous undergrads…”

You sat there, holding on to a cup of tea handed to you, as you awkwardly look at the familiar faces of the professors in the department, surrounding you as they showered you with praises and amusement, most of them completely surprised that you “were in a relationship” with their fellow coworker – the so called “prize” of the Drama Department… who was beaming over in a corner beside the coffeemaker, looking at you as if you just announced to your proud and happy parents that you were pregnant with his child…

…but deep inside, you felt as if you were his trophy, and he was bragging you to his mates.

Making sure that this disdain did not appear on your face, you continued smiling as you sipped from the tea that was offered to you, trying to make yourself feel at home in the “lair where all the English Terrors slept” according to the nonperforming (and even the most decorated) undergrads.

“We never thought Thomas here would find love again,” said Milly, one of the Humanities professors, who was almost your age, despite graduating earlier than you. “We’ve been worried ever since he buried his nose in work, after that dreadful –“

“Shhh,” said another of the co-teachers, whose frizzy hair stood out on ends, earning her the nickname of Miss Friz, even it is short of Ms. Fritzherbert. “Milly! You do understand that Tom’s ex is her best friend from University –“

As Ms. Milly Sanchez’s hand shot up to cover her mouth, you sheepishly lower your teacup on your extended hand holding the small plate that was designed to cradle it. Trying to find a way out of this awkward situation you literally set up yourself for by penning the original draft of the Rosencratz Project before handing it to your professor friend; you turn to the said man who sat there talking to the Chair of the Department, completely annihilating your chances of begging him for a way out of this situation despite him sneaking glances in your direction.

“So tell us,” the beautiful French Languages professor with those long curly black locks who was originally thought to be Tom’s love interest when he first entered the academe as a teacher asked you a question with those beautiful big expressive almond eyes. “How did you two meet?”

“I heard that you two were old friends in University, is that true?” inquired a male teacher.

“No, that’s not what I heard,” Milly interrupted you before you could open your mouth. “I know that she and Tom had been part of a travelling acting troupe before –“

“You were referring to Sian,” The Friz shot back. “And you know she’s married.”

“But you were right, Loretta,” said Mr. Grant to Miss Friz, one of Tom’s fellow professors in the Drama Department, albeit being twenty years his senior, with his outlandish out-of-date style that sometimes works when it comes to teaching. “I did hear that she,” he said, lowering his eyeglasses to gesture at you, mentioning your name. “Went to the same University as Liz –“

“You mean the previous External Affairs Admin who used to date Tom –“

Clearing your throat, not wanting to hear more about their theories and issues that have been surrounding your professor-friend inside the faculty lounge, you managed to catch their attention as you gave them all the best smile you can deliver without looking too sarcastic.

“Well, the thing is,” you started speaking, realizing how intimidating it is to have a group of five to six licensed University Professors looking in your direction, waiting for you to say something. “Thomas and I met six years ago in a Literary Convention where he was required to give a talk in, and I had to attend because of my previous work’s requirements –“

You found yourself leaving out the details where you both accidentally “met” on the train where you found his hands on your ass, and you found your heels stubbing his toes. You also left out the fact that you blatantly ignored him when he came to smile at you at the registration, clearly smitten with you ever since that little encounter at the train – and you knew it wasn’t just what you considered to be your little butt.

But as you were giving your own abridged version of how you came to be “friends” (or at least how you know it started) to the faculty, you didn’t see how the College of Humanities Dean, who also happened to be the Foreign Languages Chair, approached the brightly smiling Thomas standing beside the coffee maker, admiring the way you tried to handle the situation with a group of curious adults surrounding you.

“She is one of our finest students in the Humanities program, Thomas,” Dr. Rockfort exclaimed, a man in his late forties, dressed in that typical Oxford Professor outfit, with his suspenders, his bowtie and tweed. He was very formal and strict, although the students love him for his unconventional ways of teaching, despite his old-fashioned first impression. “I’m not wondering why you chose her…”

There was an expression of pride and happiness on Tom’s face as he looked down at the cup of coffee in his hands.

“However, you do need to remember that despite it isn’t that enforced as much;” the professor exclaimed, narrowing his blue eyes at the younger man. “The Code of Conduct still covers the Graduate Program.”

The blonde professor found himself taking a sip of his coffee before setting it down, understanding what his superior has to say, as one would see the concern in his eyes as he leaned on the counter of the faculty pantry.

“I’m just warning you Thomas,” he exclaimed, displaying a bit of fondness for the young man, considering that he taught him during his younger years and also provided him with the recommendation letters he needed when he started applying to various agents after University. Upon his decision to just continue teaching, he welcomed the man with open arms the moment he went back to his Alma Mater. “The Board will definitely have something to say about this, even if you have a spotless record and she has such good marks that even the undergrads want to get a peek at her grades.”

Sighing, the placed a hand on his chest as he informed him, “Robert, I understand –“

“All that I’m saying,” Dr. Robert Rockfort reiterated as he placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Is that you need to completely explain and provide proof and backup that you and her are completely on the same page with this application for the scholarship. The board will review her background and needs, and they will definitely not question your intimate relationship – but they would expect some sort of paperwork.”

Tom nodded, listening to the man, silently taking notes as he crossed his arms.

“Now,” Dr. Rockfort exclaimed, smiling at the way the other teachers were now asking you various questions of how Tom is outside of class, causing you to blush and look around nervously as you were unsure of how you were going to answer the question. “I know that you are a good man and she seems to be a promising student and a fine young woman as well,” the man just smiled, somehow reminding Tom that Dr. Rockfort did enroll his then fiancé years before he became and student and she did get in while the man was still a struggling teacher. “I know you’re both in good hands, and I wish you all the luck.”

The younger man then finds himself sighing as he picked up his mug from the counter once more, smiling at the way you were engulfed in questions, shaking your head at the mention of “summer wedding” at Miss Friz.

“Thank you Dr. Rockfort,” Tom whispered with glee transparent in the way he smiled. “You see, I’ve been wooing her for quite a long while now, and this was the only time she said yes.”

The older man raised an eyebrow. “Really now, Thomas?”

The smile could not be erased from Tom’s face. “We met way before I met Elizabeth,” he said, voice soft enough only for the Dean to hear. “I remember it was during that convention,” The way Tom remembered it matched the story you told the other teachers. “I asked her out twice for coffee, and both times she said no. And then eventually, on the third time – when I saw her on campus, visiting a cousin who studied here, she finally said yes.” A small tinge of sadness appeared in the man’s blue eyes as the Dean listened to his story. “However, she disappeared from my sight six months after that… then I started dating Lizzie. I only saw her again and found out that she was Elizabeth’s best friend a year after.”

But then, there was a small smile now forming on Tom’s lips. “Everything’s ironed out now,” he whispered. “I am so pleased that she finally accepted my proposal,” he said in a matter where the Dean nodded, thinking it was a proposal of marriage, when in fact that Tom was vaguely talking about the secret contract. However, we may never know what the man has in mind…

“I believe everything will work out fine.”

Dr. Rockfort cannot help but smile seeing the affection and the warmth emanating from the man’s eyes as he watched you sit there actually blushing this time, as members of the faculty convince you how Tom is a good man, a brilliant lover, and someone to hold on to. In fact, Tom himself was blushing seeing you react like that, with your own eyes trying so hard to avoid his.

However, as Tom had just been starting to enjoy all of this kind of attention, you swore you had enough of this for the day.

“I’m sorry, I need to go back to class – excuse me,” you suddenly exclaim as you place your tea down and get up to your seat.

Tom quickly noticed this and quickly placed his cup down, running after his said “fiancée” as you politely bid the faculty goodbye and went for the door.

You barely had it shut when he suddenly yanked it open, ignoring the catcalls and cheers from the other side as he closed the door behind him, his towering form hovering over you as you find yourself with your lips parted, unusually affected with the way he leaned over you… now that you basically don’t need to hide your _affair_ , considering its all out in the open.

“You were wonderful today love,” the way it escaped his lips sounded more like veneration, making you wonder whether you had inhaled too much of this man that everything you hear about him sounds like sex.

Trying not to shake your head, reminding yourself of the haze you put yourself through the other day… what happened between you and a classmate you’re dearly fond of in the library… It was enough to keep your head straight, to keep yourself on your toes, and tell yourself that whatever you are currently feeling for Tom right now is _temporary_ …

Or so you think.

“So were you,” the voice that escaped you was a surprise, but slowly as you looked up at him, you felt as if a mask was slowly sliding over your face.

However, the smile Tom was wearing looked just as intoxicating, making him seem brighter than the sun on a cloudy day.

“How about I see you later?” His suggestion was more of a wish, but somehow with all of the developments that have been going on concerning the Rosencratz Scholarship, it wasn’t time to back out from his advances now.

As much as you felt lazy in agreeing to it, you found yourself speechlessly nodding to his words, as he gently extended a hand and tucked back a lock of hair from your face, getting a better gander at that confused yet peaceful expression you were wearing.

“Well I gotta go check out something for my Languages class –“

“And I got to get back in there,” he interjected, somewhat fazed by how this little intimate silence between the two of you was broken. “The Dean was talking to me about a substitute job earlier, I think I need to clarify a bit on it –“

You nod absentmindedly, looking down the hall, as you shoo him back in. “Go,” you say, taking a step away from him, somewhat itching to be _somewhere else_. “Don’t let me keep you from him –“

“You promise me I’ll see you later –“

You turn around, already on your way down the hall, as you find yourself shooting him a half smile, half smirk, somewhat assuring him that you’d be there when he needs you… when in fact it was half-truth, since despite how perky the man was, this was only an attempt to appease him.

“I will,” you called out before he smiled down at his shoes, and disappeared behind the faculty room door, giving you enough leeway to walk away.

 

 

***

 

 

Now there is a garden at the back of the Marketing Building that you and your friends loved hanging around with, since it is surrounded by hedges and was mostly unseen by students – given that the Marketing Building is one of the oldest and ugliest buildings in campus. Considering that it was where most entrance exams took place and where board exams were held, it generated such bad memories – for undergrads at least.

But for them grad program students who often chilled around each other because of their full load, this was the perfect place to meet up and stay, along the steps of this statue of the poet John Keats, where they would talk about their lives, gossip about their friends, exchange notes on school (or probably work), and stay there till the next class.

It was by the bronze aging statue of John Keats where you found him, sitting on the edge of the stone base, seemingly moping.

“Mattie…”

He was there, almost leaning against the statue, his backpack thrown aside. He looks at you entering the glade, almost empty handed – considering that you had the right mind to leave your bag in your assigned and temporarily rented locker that lasts for half a day before it is renewed. But with only your phone and your tablet in hand, you approach him, causing him to wince away upon recognizing your presence.

“It’s such a shame,” he spoke, a bit of an ironic laugh escaping him. “That my _threats_ hold no power on you anymore…” He turned to look at you, the smile playing on his lips seemingly like a cross between sarcasm and true disappointment, considering how his green eyes seem to glint with hopelessness – the kind that makes your heart sink in the depth of your stomach. “Don’t you think, Mrs. Hiddleston?”

This mention of the fabricated title caused you to frown grandiosely, causing you to place your hand on your waist.

“Excuse me?” the sarcastic tone couldn’t be hidden from your voice, as you approached him. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too early for you to raise the white flag just like that –“

It somewhat robbed you of your own courage to see him so down just like that… Upon the mention and announcement of the Rosencratz Candidates, you feel that your entire life has been turned upside down, tearing and clawing at the budding clandestine relationship between you and Matthew that started in a musty library – while your complicated arrangement with Tom has provided a whole new downward spiral into a blackhole that has no end, and had no means of escape.

Of course in the future you’d say that things _were definitely in place_ , but at this exact second – as you stood there looking at this man whom you fancied more than life itself at that moment in time, fearing that you are pushing him away, locking him in a place where you couldn’t reach him… you found yourself placing down your tablet on the base of the statue where he sat on, as you stand in front of him.

It didn’t help how he raised his green eyes to look deep into yours, drowning in misery and hopelessness.

“Mattie,” you said with force in your tone, but gentleness on your tongue as you place your hands on his shoulders, standing before him. “Listen to me.”

He lifted his eyes to glare at you, but upon seeing the intensity in your eyes – he found himself in surprise, causing the silence to sit on his tongue as you leaned down and restrained yourself from capturing his lips once more – as you wished of doing so all night before going to class.

“Whatever happens between me,” you whisper to him, leaning close as you almost tug his head down so he’d be inches away from your lips. “Hiddleston, and that scholarship –“ You find yourself licking your lips with how Matthew suddenly flitted his eyes as he seductively watched your mouth move, knowing that he shares the same sentiments with you about having another passionate kiss… or more. “Does not change whatever happened in the library… or between the two of us.”

This was enough to fuel the fire that was suddenly reflected in his green eyes. It would have been enough for you to tug at his hair and snog him like there’s no tomorrow, but with the way you retraced your head back, wearing a mischievous smile on your face… you and him both knew you’d like to play this little game a little bit further. However, the words that escaped Matt’s lips, despite his initial expression of comfort… somewhat made you furrow your eyebrows.

“If you were having problems with funding and the like,” he exclaimed, his voice soft and soothing, yet a small twang in it told you that he was somewhat hurt. “Then why did you tell me?”

You felt yourself blink at his words.

 _Yeah,_ you heard yourself think. _Why didn’t you tell Mattie?_

“Aren’t we friends,” he exclaimed, this time, licking his lips, arching his body towards yours. “Aren’t we friends with…” he pointed his hip in your direction as you felt him tantalizingly run his fingers on the hem of your shirt, tempting you with something else… “Aren’t we friends with _so much more?_ ”

The way he flitted his eyes at you, and did that adorable nose wrinkle just made your heart jump… and your loins burn.

“You know I could have helped you…” he seemed to plead, but you know it’s all for naught. You barely even thought of him when you were having issues with the funds and were desperate of the scholarship – the first person that popped into your head was Tom. And somewhat… this made you feel weak to the knees…

Crossing your arms, you open your mouth and explain. “Professor Hiddleston –“ you started, making the title sound sour in your mouth, considering you only called him _Tom_ … even in your most heated moments. “Tom –“ you corrected yourself, wincing, ignoring how his smiling face popped in your brain. “Is one of the most respected members of the faculty, that clearly he –“

You suddenly find yourself pausing, unable to say the words that would reveal true intent of the scholarship, how you were willing to lay yourself out as his sexually active lover, answering to all of his kinky whims just so he would act as your sponsor and stand beside you as your “fiancé”. And considering that this was Mattie, dear sweet innocent-looking Mattie with his thin eyebrows and beautiful brown hair, whom you dearly adored to a point you’d fuck him on the base of John Keats’ statue… You couldn’t find the courage to sell out the plain truth that you were using sex to pay for your tuition. _Maybe there are some things left unsaid about Tom’s agreement with me…_ you thought.

“Let’s just say,” you exclaim, curling your lip. “That there are some things Thomas can provide…” You flit your eyes to that bulge in Matt’s crotch – subtly hinting something, somewhat teasing, and implying something that would hopefully merit you in the long run. “That other’s cannot.”

For a moment, the young man standing in front of her dropped his eyes… seemingly unable to answer back to your statement.

After all, there was some truth in what you said… You could not deny how Tom was a beast in bed, and if you would only focus and allow him – you’d be more than satisfied. And truly, the man was a package… he had the skills, the charm, and the wit – not to mention _the actual package_. Now if only you felt the same way for dear old Thomas… the way you felt for this Masterals Student standing in front of you who was suddenly seductively biting his lip, moving towards you like a panther, as he ghosted his mouth over yours as he slipped a hand around your waist, pulling you close.

“Let’s just say,” he whispered, his eyes looking around naughtily, as if he was checking if anyone was in the vicinity. “Maybe,” he licked his lips, causing you to back off a bit, despite your heart pounding in your chest. “There’s one thing Professor Hiddles cannot provide…” He then leaned closer, his lips inches from yours, begging for a kiss. “… _that I could_.”

You sneer, challenging him. “Can you prove that sir?”

His hand snaked around the back of your head, gently tugging at your hair. “You bet I would –“

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence because you grit your teeth and lean right in, suckling hard on his lower lip, as he returned the kiss with much fervor.

There was something about the way he tilted his head, or how he slipped his tongue within your mouth, or how he held your body, those hands threatening to touch your breasts. Unlike Tom, he was rough, and a bit harsh with how he bit on your lower lip, spilling a bit of blood. But you loved this, _you loved it rough_. Arduous, primal, wild – you can go on with the list, but it was better explained with how you remembered it – rough tongues, teeth gnashing against each other’s, little nips and bites he left on your lower lip, the side of your mouth and slightly on your chin when he let his kiss go astray…

“You better be careful, woman,” Mattie teased you in between kisses, as you felt yourself gasp in his mouth the moment he grabbed your ass through your jeans.

“If someone discovers our _clandestine affair –_ “ The way he released your lip with a loud smack was enough to soak your panties. “Then I’m afraid your _wonderfully chaste and sacred relationship_ with Thomas –“

It was your turn to bite down on his lip and draw a bit of blood, the iron mixing in your mouth enough to arouse you, making your nipples harden underneath your bra.

“Oh shut up,” you exclaimed as you got up for air, a trail of saliva following your lips as you disengaged from a very aroused-looking young man. “You wouldn’t want me telling on the school board how you managed to get your jizz on old classic textbooks don’t you –“

Mattie gasped, clearly aroused. “You wouldn’t –“

You bit your lip as you dug your nails on his chest. “Want to make me?” The smile on your face was intoxicating.

The way he smiled devilishly at you made your heart burn with lust, but you weren’t completely prepared when he suddenly had his hands all over you.

There was a bit of a scuffle, like Mattie pulling on your shirt and you biting on his collarbone as you made your way down towards his body – ghosting dry kisses over his lean torso. But you won over him as you lifted his shirt to reveal his sculpted abs, licking a wet trail from his abdomen down to the light patch of brown hair that led towards his jeans… as you slowly unbuckled his belt, popped his button open, and pulled down his designer underwear by the band.

You felt yourself gasp as you faced his erection that was standing proud in front of your face.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he had a girth that was wide… _but still incomparable to the length that had been fucking you for quite a while now, filling you up to the brim as he screamed in that lovely British accent you try to forget in your head_. But there was something… about the way he moaned as you encircled your fingers around his shaft, how his veins felt magnificent to your touch… and how it twitched when you slowly enclosed your mouth on the head…

The low growl that was released as you twirled your pink tongue around his head, causing him to step backwards, almost falling against the bronze statue as the high base of the statue caught his hands, allowing him to lean on it as you slowly began your mouth and your pink tongue down his throbbing shaft…

“ _Jesus—_ ” You heard him moan as you run the side of your lips on his length, before going back up to dart your tongue to wet his frenulum just below the head, making his length twitch against your waiting lips, the gloss on your mouth staining that cock… “ _Ohgodyesplease…_ ”

And you didn’t stop at all… as you paused while teasing him and began to swallow his length farther down your throat as you could, making a gentle gagging sound as you adjusted around his thickness, that tang slowly sliding down your throat and his musk intoxicating you…

“ _Oh, fuck, please, yes, yes, yes, Gods, more –“_

He could barely even say a single complete sentence, with the way he writhed under your touch.

The way you fitted him inside your mouth caused the man to moan so low, it may have reverberated around the glade. But if there was one thing that echoed through his body; it was your groan that vibrated all over his cock when it twitched inside your mouth. You couldn’t explain the power you hold and the way the butterflies rumbled in your stomach, as you slowly slid your mouth up that throbbing cock, as the man’s thighs began to shudder, unable to hide how aroused he was or how close he was to giving you that release your mouth has been trying to squeeze out of his shaft for the past minutes.

If there was one privilege you gave Matthew that you haven’t provided to Tom just yet – it was the honor of dropping into your knees, using your mouth and your tongue to worship him. There was something about surrendering your power to a beautiful man like him, dropping to your knees, and giving service on your own volition that is not stated by a contract –

But then you refuse to give this wonderful privilege to your friend of longer years due to unresolved secrets and feelings you have buried deep down, or that fear of him somewhat stirring dormant feelings in you that you thought never existed –

You just had to push your awful thoughts away when Mattie started whispering your name in veneration, babbling in tongues as he burst inside your mouth, muttering endlessly about how he never – ever would look at another girl again with how your mouth is more talented than all the Nine Muses in Olympus, singing…

You felt yourself blush when you pulled his cock out with a soft smack, shyly and gingerly wiping the cum off your mouth as you watched your classmate hold his shaft, as he tried to calm himself down amidst his orgasm, his eyes filled with lust…

When he suddenly grabbed you by tugging gently at your hair, getting you up on your feet, as his lips quivered, threatening a kiss…

You closed your eyes and clutched him by his shirt, the fabric bunching up in your fist as you prepared yourself for what was about to come, when –

“Good Lord, what time is it?”

That worried tone that lacked of the sensual growl and was reeking of fret somewhat dampened your libido as you opened your eyes and glanced at your watch, his shirt fabric slightly obscuring it.

“Almost two-thirty,” you whisper, licking your lips and still tasting him on them. You grabbed his chin and were asking for another kiss. “Why –“

He gingerly pushed you away, squinting. “Wait a minute –“

The disappointment was livid in your eyes. “What’s wrong?” you ask him impatiently, loosening your grip on his cock, still pressed against your belly.

He blinked at you, muttering, “Isn’t it we have that lecture to attend to –“

You try to scan your memories of your schedule _that really wasn’t important right now_ , when a small lightbulb went off the back of your head and made you panic.

 

 

 

***

 

 

This was that one day that Professor Cohen wouldn’t stop yammering about – the day she would deliver that “necessary” **_Gods and Sexuality_** class that undergrads wouldn’t miss, but you and the Graduate Program students were quite sure that the youngsters wouldn’t miss it for the world where that almost-senile woman would discuss how Zeus managed to copulate again and again and in clear detail –

This was that one day that you and your classmates could sleep in an air-conditioned theatre-style auditorium to be shared, as you listened to her drone on and on as you play those silly little apps on your phones and exchange lewd messages and mindless gossip.

In fact, for you and Mattie… this was the best time to exchange heated whispers, or maybe have a secret rubdown underneath the desks and the textbooks to be positioned over your laps…

…and that one day, you were both running late.

Making sure not to open the double doors, you slip through and find a seat almost at the back of the room, both clearly out of breath considering the running you had to do – and the activity you were both doing before that in the hidden glade, not to mention how you both had to quickly clean up (for you) and get dressed (for him).

Lucky for the two of you, there was a projector slide showing and the lights were off when you tried to tiptoe down the tricky stairs of the auditorium, attempting to find a seat without having to disturb Dr. Cohen. Trying to hide your giggles, especially with the way Mattie slapped your ass when you almost tripped over him (and attempting to grab his thigh in the dark), you two managed to find two empty seats at the end of the row, as you exchanged naughty smiles in the dark, both still trying to catch your breath.

“Ah well, it seems like we have latecomers in the room –“ came a voice that was obviously not Professor Cohen’s clicking from a laser remote was heard to turn on the auditorium lights –

It was all suddenly bright all around you, the white fluorescent lights blinding you considering how your eyes just got accustomed in the dark. By the time your eyes focused, you found yourself looking at a room of about one hundred fifty GP and Undergrad students, all of them staring at your direction.

You felt your blood run cold when you suddenly heard Mattie laughing quietly, albeit nervously beside you…

But it wasn’t the laugh that rendered you frozen.

It was the Professor who stood at the stage beside the wooden desk and the projector, their arms crossed, squinting through their glasses, looking at you with much contempt, trying to make sure that they were right and identified who you were from the stage –

And it wasn’t Professor Cohen at all, considering the lean gait, the familiar looking blue dress shirt that was complimented by that brown waistcoat.

“Care to say hello to the rest of the class?” said Thomas, his tone playful, but his words crisp, as those blue eyes glared at you from a distance.


	11. A Sexual Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Hiddleston is very cross with you after you and your buddy arrive at his lecture late. You will eventually find out why... and receive a punishment for it.

You could not explain whether if it was shame or fear that you felt at that moment, as you sat at the back of the room, as you watched the lecturer stride on those long legs on the stage, quietly descending down the stairs to take a closer glance at you and your latecomer friend who just managed to find a decent seat at the back of the auditorium.

It doesn’t help that most of the audience were women (not counting the Humanities and Education majors who happened to be male, or just big fans of Hiddleston), and they were glaring at you… considering that probably a third of them were present when Thomas grabbed you by your face and kissed you with almost a whole year level of Humanities Undergrads in attendance.

However, as you were expecting Tom to be stern and in the process of humiliating you and your secret boyfriend, his charm completely took over as he took the attention away from you and Matthew when he started laughing his trademarked _ehehehehe_ , causing those glaring 18-ish girls to look back at him with sparkling eyes.

“You darlings do remember what happens when you come in late to my class, right?” he inquired, those blue eyes inquisitively looking around, as he adjusted those specs sitting on the bridge of his nose he wears whenever he’s reading.

 

The response he got was electric.

 

“Make them dance!”

“Have them spell their names with their arses!”

“Make them sing!”

 

You find yourself actually making eye-contact with him as you looked from across the room, as you bravely sought mercy in those blue eyes, shaking your head as subtly as you could, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the class.

Mattie on the other hand just shrugged, seemingly having been through this kind of treatment before. He had been talking about this – some of his classmates running late to Tom’s class, having to pretend to be a prop while someone recited a sonnet, someone to start dancing to one of the songs in his playlist, and the like. Mattie also claimed to have to pretend to be Yorick the Skull with a Jolly Roger flag tied to his head one time. You didn’t bother to ask why since you were suddenly looking at the lecturer who was looking at you, licking his lips, despite that flare of fury that was hidden in his eyes that only you can see –

“Ah such lovely suggestions,” he exclaimed as he walked by, almost approaching them at the end of the room, as you held your breath, completely baffled by how Mattie was keeping still beside you – his presence somewhat overridden by this English/Scottish hybrid teacher with a devilish charm who had almost the entire auditorium wrapped around his finger… except for the two of them. “But you have to remember that this isn’t my class,” the man said, wagging his finger at the giggling girls at the front row. “We can all save that for our next session in _my jurisdiction_ , alright?”

You felt like sneering as you watched him walk away, winking at some of his old students who became the exact definition of _giggling school girls_. No wonder the gossip about him getting offers for academic service, personal assistance, and even simple volunteers for research from various students in exchange for _possible sexual favors_ was all over the campus… because ignoring the fact that _he is a handsome bastard_ , the man has a devilish charm present in front of his students as well.

And as much as this made you nervous, you find it eerie that all that Mattie could do in the presence of what was supposed to be his _competition_ – was to sit there silently, probably seething, but you couldn’t see anything on his face but an expression akin to what you make in poker, giving you the hint that maybe this man is better at acting than what you expected.

As Thomas took his place back on the podium with a smile on his face – completely forgiving your late intrusion with your classmate and ignoring the possible implied suspicion, the Professor decided to sweep the incident under the rug as he gestured towards the projector once more. But you could not deny or be afraid of that glint in his eye visible only to you as he glanced over your direction for one measly second, reminding you that there is an angry fire within him that could not die down – a fire you would have to deal with later on.

And this scared you.

But after a second, he was all smiles again – _and it seemed to be gone._

“Alright then,” he exclaimed as he picked up this heavy book lent to him by Professor Cohen a year ago when he decided to stage a small production of _Oedipus Rex_ and _Antigone_ ; as it was suddenly relevant to his emergency sub class. “Where were we?”

“Sexy Greek Gods!”

“Sexy Romans!”

“Eros and his nasty cheap sex tricks!”

“How Zeus went all alien-rain and impregnated Danae –“

“Whoa, whoa,” the Professor then exclaimed, baring his palms up at the rowdy crowd of giggling girls and enthusiastic boys as he tucked the book underneath his arms, smiling awkwardly at the audience as he moved about the elevated stage, looking like a modern-day Greek god himself. “Hold your horses everyone –“

As he tried to calm down the crowds by discussing why people’s sexuality seemed to be free and considered highly sacred during the ancient times, you tried to push away the fact of how Tom’s glare from across the wide auditorium made your heart beat like crazy as if you were being chased through the corridors…

And what bothered you even more is how your seatmate did try to pay attention to the man whom he always listened to, despite the way he seemed to grit his teeth and curl his lip, furiously taking notes from the mouth of the Professor he claimed he looked up to… but with one glance from your classmate in your direction as you subtly watched him, you realize that Thomas is now a man Matthew envied for one reason – and he was looking at it.

For some reason, this made you cross your legs as you sat there – sexually and emotionally compromised.

However, that wasn’t enough tension for you that day, considering that the man who just declared himself your fiancé (which was technically all your fault in the first place) was busy addressing the class about how sexuality was rampant in Ancient Greek itself, with the girls giggling about the “phalluses shaped and hung over every quarter”; was also trying not to look in your direction… But when he did, his soul-piercing glare just ate up at you, whispered to you all the secrets you never thought he’d know, the ones you were deliberately hide from him, and deliberately recorded all your secrets – as he rendered you naked and vulnerable with only his eyes… even if it happened for only a second.

Somehow being able to read your thoughts too, you suddenly snapped out of your worried musings over coming in late with your secret lover and seeing your supposed “fiancé” presiding over your class, when Mattie suddenly leaned over and whispered something in your ear.

“Easy now,” you heard him whisper against your hair, his lips nearly brushing your lobes. “Don’t look too tense or maybe you’ll get an interrogation later.”

You snicker under your breath, trying to keep quiet as you find yourself covering your mouth as you pretend to open your notebook and skim through pages.

“He’s not that mean to deliver an interrogation –“

“Are you defending him now?” you hear him dip his head towards yours once more, ignoring the smirk on your mouth. “Man, maybe I really have a reason to be jealous –“

_Bam!_

You were about to smirk till you heard that loud noise coming front of the front of the auditorium, causing your seatmate to jerk away from your direction. You subtly turned your head to see what the commotion was all about, only to find out that even the undergrads were surprised with how Professor Hiddleston violently slammed that large book closed with one hand, completely demonstrating the strength of his arm. To top it all off, he wasn’t even looking at the projector or the class, but once again he was gritting his teeth, jaw clearly clenched – with his eyes fixed on you as he completely caught how your seatmate leaned over with his eyes closed, whispering in your ear causing a soft blush to creep up your cheeks –

“Well,” he said, voice gravelly, his demeanor suddenly changing despite the roughness in his voice. “It seems like we’re done with the first part. Now where are those modules I’m supposed to –“

With the way he clucked his tongue, he may have sounded a bit cheeky to the undergrads, but you always knew when he’s clenching his jaw and clucking his tongue – it’s not a good combination. Not to mention the heated glare he sent in your direction earlier. Looking at Mattie wasn’t much of a comfort either, considering how he furiously looked down at his notes and scribbled as he gritted his teeth as well.

_Bang!_

He may just be being rowdy as he casually flipped the big book over the table in the middle of the podium as he ran a hand through that curly hair, seemingly being agitated over the modules, as he frequently apologized for somewhat holding the class – carelessly throwing jokes relevant for the topic to buy time as he shuffled through his briefcase for the said readings.

However, as the undergrads kept quiet and whispered about how hot Professor Hiddleston was whenever he moves around the stage, throwing his cares to the world as he worked about, saying how much of an Alpha he acted in front of a large crowd, as he folded his sleeves up, explaining to his students that Professor Cohen prepared a bunch of readings for them and he helped with it – but as of the moment, he’s trying to figure out if their Professor has had it printed or he still needs to pick it up in the Printing Department –

But you knew Tom for so long that this quick change in attitude despite the aggressive way he moved about only indicates how he’s trying hard to hide the fact of how his heart is basically dangling on his sleeve… Hide the fact that he was agitated, frustrated, and most of all furious – _with someone in the room_. Who knows, it may even be two people…

“Well,” Tom finally exclaimed, the raspy voice clearly giving away his hidden distress. “It’s lucky that Dr. Rockfort had his assistant duplicate the modules after getting it from Professor Cohen yesterday before she got the flu –“ He wrinkled his nose and pushed his glasses upwards. “Is she always like this?”

Laughter erupted in the auditorium, mostly caused by those undergrad girls.

“Anyway,” the Professor continued on, looking down at his mobile phone, seemingly reading a message. “The good thing is that Dr. Rockfort is having the one-hundred and seventy five copies of Dr. Cohen’s **_Gods and Sexuality_ ** Module sent over to my office in five minutes –“ He looks up and grins brightly at the huge crowd who was watching him with anticipation. “Who wants to volunteer with picking it up?”

Suddenly about half the class’ hands were up in the air.

“Sir!”

“I could help!”

“Let me help you sir!”

“Professor!”

“Professor?”

Different voices, different faces – but all the same expression… the same need and want to be chosen. And for that exact moment, Thomas felt powerful. Well who wouldn’t be when almost a whole gaggle of women are ready to answer to your beck and call?

Circling his finger in the air as he walked among the aisles, you felt like sinking in your seat, wishing that he’d do what you were expecting – that he’d pick the most fresh and curvaceous freshman with heaving breasts up in the front row… But of course, with the way his eyes glinted in your direction, you knew that he wasn’t doing this at all.

You looked over to your seatmate whose incandescent green eyes moved from anxiously watching his supposedly favorite drama teacher walk down the aisle, anticipating (albeit treacherously) his next move – when all of a sudden, Matthew’s eyes fell upon you.

And you turn around to find Professor Hiddleston’s finger pointing at you… before licking his lips and placing them down.

“Ah,” he mused, slipping his hands in his pockets, standing a few steps away from the level where the two graduate students were sitting – giving him a clear view and a chance to look you directly in the eye, reminding you how much those blues were on fire… a different kind of fire. “There you are love…”

You felt your stomach tighten as he flashed the most mocking grin you could ever identify in your life, as he slightly glanced at your seatmate, a look of contempt flashing on his face for a moment, before turning back to you, the same hair-raising (yet unusually arousing) smile formed on his lips…

“I would be honored if you do this favor for me.”

You could hear the entire class groan, knowing that Thomas has already selected the volunteer they all wanted to be at that moment.

“Would you, love?”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

You just couldn’t say no.

Of all the times you pushed him away behind closed doors, every single time you managed to stop him from having sex with you with the mere mention of that obscure word, and every single time you get to deny him orgasm, sending him whining like a little puppy with his tail tucked behind his legs… Of all the times – _you just couldn’t say no_.

You grit your teeth as you collated the papers you were tasked to bring back to the auditorium, considering that your “professor” was left behind to introduce a video playback about a review on Greek History, that you politely excused yourself to bring back the modules yourself without that much hassle –

That’s when it clicked.

Why else could he be putting his lecture on a creative hold?

And to think of it, he’d never let you go back to his study all by yourself –

Quickly licking your fingers as you fixed the papers faster, you quickly hoisted the rest of them in your arms, thinking about what’s the worst thing that could happen in a span of fifteen-to-twenty minutes of Edith Hamilton’s book being reviewed while you were stuck _all alone_ in your “professor’s” office, as you thought about getting back to class real quickly –

When you suddenly heard the door click closed.

You spin around, hitting your elbow on the edge of the desk where you picked the paper up from, almost dropping your load, wondering why you didn’t even hear it _click open_.

The sight of him just astounds you, as it sucked the air out of your lungs with how he stood there, in the midst of what would have been a scene in a thriller movie, where the ill-intentioned lover sneaks up on the main girl –

And you felt mean and evil for thinking such thoughts, but the truth was you couldn’t wait to get this task done so he would stop hounding around you, letting you return to your seat beside that man whom you’d personally want to kiss all day –

“God damn fuck it,” you hiss, rubbing your sore elbow with your free hand, your arms cradling the paper load. “You scared me –“

It didn’t help how he straightened himself up against the door, as he slowly and painstakingly rolled up his sleeves up to his elbows… keeping his eyes fixed on you as he took long strides to approach you, those stormy blue eyes appraising your every inch as you stood there listless, almost gaping at the Professor who called you out for being late minutes earlier…

He was far from the gentle-voiced friend who stroked your cheek with the back of his hand when you left him in front of the Humanities Department that same day… _A completely different person whose eyes were on fire…_

“You needn’t be scared, love,” he whispered, his tone suddenly softening, as he cast them down on the floor, stopping just a few steps in front of you, as you wanted to kick yourself for staring up at him in awe, when you reminded yourself that this is not what you feel about him – When he suddenly spoke and snapped you out of your intrusive thoughts.

“It’s just me…” he continued, those blue eyes now filled with confusion. “I’m just wondering what happened in a short amount of time – that our sweetness is turned to something…” He gestured to the way your hand shook either in anxiety or anger, as you held on to the papers, causing you to drop them back on the table. “Like this.”

“Is it something I said?” He asked, his eyes searching you. “Was it something I have done? Have I announced the candidacy and our ‘affair’ too early?” He inquired once more, the worry unable to be hidden from his eyes as he gestured towards you, tiptoeing around by not invading your space – an unusually respectful gesture you found with him months before, those days before you formulated the contract… or dealt with his unwelcome kiss…

Taking a deep breath as you lifted your chin up, you were completely unaware of how he was affected by seeing the deep v of your shirt, your cleavage clearly exposed. But as you were building your pride, you mistook the way he swallowed his spit and mimicked your posture by lifting up his chin as well, as you said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Let me not beat around the bush…” he started. He parted his lips and unclenched his fists. “Are we…” he took a deep breath before continuing. “Are we still firm on our agreement?”

You narrow your eyes at him, finding his sentences ridiculous. “What?!”

“Does the contract still hold gravity between us…” he asked, gesturing about – seemingly unsure of what to say, not to mention anxious with how you furrowed your brow at him.

“I seriously have no idea why you’re bringing this up Professor Hiddlest –“

He lifted his eyes at you, causing you to stop in the middle of pronouncing his name, the abrupt expression of pain in his eyes causing for the words to get stuck in your throat, suddenly making you wish he allowed you to say his name and roll it off your tongue as you always did… unknowingly…

“Please,” he seemed to bed. “Let us not be so formal –“

The way you heaved your shoulder as you exhaled in frustration caused his muscles to tense – considering that you arched your neck and brought your chest up as well… and you never noticed how this affected him. “Alright,” you say exasperatedly, as you whisper through gritted teeth. “ _Tom…_ ” You notice how he closes his eyes at the mention of his name…

Remembering the way you mentioned his name…

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you continue to speak in hopes of snapping him out of his trance. “But I am pretty sure that we can’t really dwell on this topic for long, since you have a lecture to deliver –“

He suddenly raised a hand, causing you to stop.

You see him grit his teeth, and you know this is what he does when he is hesitant on saying something. However, as you frustratingly held your bated breath, the moment he started speaking… you close your eyes and clench your jaw _knowing you were right about what kind of gears were turning in his head…_

“Matthew is an exceptional student,” he mentioned, causing you to gape at him, upon realizing that you were right. “One of my best, actually. I could even say that he’s far ahead for his time, even compared to mine…” You wrinkle your brow at him, wondering what kind of self-depreciation is this to even admit that a potential _rival_ is even better than him… But then you find yourself thinking if Thomas really does have true feelings for you or was playing the martyr this time around… “As much as I respect him and praise him as his mentor… I couldn’t help but feel…” This was the moment he bared his teeth and bore those piercing-blue eyes at the edge of your skull, the depth of his glare burning you to the ground. “… _jealous_.”

You felt the need to defend yourself, but part of you was disgusted with the planned monologues in your head that made you sound like a wife making excuses for an affair –

Wrinkling your nose, you suddenly start chattering. “Matthew?” you mutter, you whip your head to the left as if your classmate was just standing beside you? “Don’t be ridiculous –“ you reason out. “We’re just classmates! We just happen to be in the same clique, the same study group! You don’t have anything to be so _jealous_ about –“

“Really?” his voice was now deep and brash. “Are you sure that there isn’t anything I should worry about?”

There was something in the way those blue eyes probed you, the way he looked at you that made your skin burn. There was something about his tone of voice that clearly told you how Thomas could see past your lies. But then, with the way he chewed his lip and looked away, freeing you from the burning glare he was giving you, you heard him speak a line that gave a chill up your spine.

“Study mates don’t snog in the restricted section,” he said in a soft yet low tone, that somehow made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, as you widened your eyes upon realizing that you were caught. And somehow, this expression gave you away as he turned to look at you, those blazing blue eyes suddenly making your inner thighs heat up –

“You’re spying on me!” You said, gasp hitching up in your throat, as you pointedly accuse him of the deed.

Crossing his arms, he claims, “I promised you that I will respect your privacy -- the goings on of your private life is yours.” He raised his eyebrows and looked away, causing you to huff out an angry steam out of your mouth and nose, clearly offended and uncomforted by what he just said – considering the fact that he still knows the private activities between you and your classmate. “However, I cannot stop my loyal students who give me such private information – even if I turn a blind eye to it…” The way he looked at you questioningly, a smirk playing on the side of his lip just made you grit your teeth.

“But mind you,” he continued, as he walked towards you, but only to approach his desk to skim his hands against the rim of the papers you tried to carry – tipping it back into place to keep it from spilling on the floor, due to the violent way you threw it over his study. “I never asked or demanded them these information. They gave it to me with their own free will…”

He then turns to you, eyes glinting. “Something I’ve been wishing someone would give me…” He then parts his lips and this somewhat makes your blood boil; knowing _exactly_ what he’s talking about.

The way you narrow your eyes and menacingly clench your hands suddenly broke your record of trying to keep a straight face and put up with Tom’s ridiculous requests and approaches in hopes that you’d get an actual _something_ out of your contract, as you grit your teeth and mutter – “Don’t bring this back up –“

The man shook his head, trying to reason with you. “Oh,” he started. “But I must –“

All of a sudden you found yourself trapped with his desk behind you, as the man moved so fast that he has his arms snaked around your waist – holding the edge of his wooden table study, as he stared into your eyes, that gesture somewhat locking you into place as you let your jaw go slack… completely taken aback by how he managed to render you still –

“As I said,” he whispered softly, his face only inches from yours, as you silently cursed yourself in your head for being unable to do anything – push him back, sneak away, run out of the study – _anything_ , to avoid this kind of advances. But then there’s that horrified thought at the back of your brain that maybe, _just maybe_ , half hoping that it’s not true and you’re imagining it… that maybe you did like it whenever Tom was being _gently_ aggressive like this…

The question was… do you?

“I could only wish for such things to come from you,” he uttered gently as he cupped your chin, causing your breath to hitch. “Wish for things, wait for things…” He licks his lips, threatening to kiss you… “You and I both know your heart runs free, and I could not have the power or ironically – _the heart –_ to control it…” His eyes flicker up to yours, drowning you in all that blue that you realize that despite how outrageous and demanding Tom’s requests are, he never really forced you to do them – _you allowed him to do these to you_.

“All I have to hold on to is the contract,” he said in a melancholy tone. “And I wouldn’t dare abuse it…” He gazed into your eyes, biting his lip, not wanting to say the words you secretly wanted to hear – _I wouldn’t dare abuse it in the fear of driving you away…_

You furrow your eyebrows, close your eyes, and open your lips to retort to his words –

When all of a sudden you felt something warm cover your mouth, plunging you into a state where your attempt to defend yourself completely faded in your mind, as all you could suddenly feel is this searing gentle heat emanating from your Professor’s mouth as he released his hand from his desk to gently press his palm to the small of your back…

That’s the thing – the kiss.

In your moment of intoxication with a single expression, you found yourself moving your mouth – savoring it, as you pretended in your head that you were doing this for _research_. You found yourself comparing Mattie’s lips to Tom’s – which is just hilariously insane inside your head, you almost chuckled in the middle of Tom shifting his head to take in more of you, probably thinking you were enjoying this little _break_ from his lecture.

Matt is a wonderful kisser, no doubt about that.

As much as you hated to admit it, Thomas is too…

But there was something in particular that stood out of that moment, making itself clear to you…

Matthew could definitely fire you up with his kisses. The way he holds your head, the way he breathes, and the way he crushes his mouth with yours – _he is the very definition of searing heat, a burning fire._ He was rough, he was ruthless, and he would eat you alive. He works stealthily like a predator, teasing your mouth with his tongue like a serpent circling you… He was taunting and seductive, building up that frustrating bonfire within you, boiling and scrolling… driving you insane…

But Tom…

Tom was… just different.

If Matt’s kisses stir this whole new brand of sexual frustration within you, Tom does it almost the same way… but conveying this deep emotion you’ve been trying to overlook and push past your contract ever since. He has this deep inner flame that you could feel with every touch, every gaze, and every kiss… that lights you up like a wildfire, destroying the rainforest which are your defenses. With every twist of his head, the language of his mouth, and how he gently held you in stark contrast of how he passionately kissed you, this flame sparks your most inner being, stirring up a maelstrom within you that spreads from the tips of your fingers, within your aching chest where you’re locking in and compressing all that withheld desires you never wanted to confirm… and down to the pooling heat between your legs that you keep on holding back…

…all because you didn’t want to lose yourself because of a contract.

Or is it that you’re just afraid to fall in love with this man?

Putting a whole new meaning to _basorexia_ , he releases with a smack… only for his eyes to furrow as he watches you flutter your eyelids, seemingly upset at the sudden loss of contact – only for the coil within your stomach to tighten when he suddenly leans towards you again and _licks your lips and the inside of your mouth with that talented tongue… tasting you…_

And this sexual act just brings a shiver up your spine…

“Peculiar,” he whispers, his voice suddenly sounding just like honey to you… as you allow him to steal another kiss, as he seemingly wouldn’t stop caressing the insides of your mouth with his tongue. “You taste… different…”

You felt your cheeks turn pale upon realizing that Thomas may be able to figure out your clandestine wanton activities before the lecture, with just the taste of your mouth. But with this realization, you felt your insides tighten with your underwear soaking itself bit by bit… considering that your own hunger wasn’t really satiated after you pleased Mattie with your mouth…

Cupping your face as you tried to look away, trying to hide the shame from your face to no avail, Tom tried to catch your eye no matter how hard you avoided his gaze. But as he gently placed his index finger and thumb to tenderly squeeze the joints of your jaw, you sorely opened your mouth and closed your eyes… and you suddenly heard the well-experienced professor clucking his tongue… as the knots in your stomach just tightened themselves upon realizing that your secret has been discovered.

Much to your surprise, you didn’t realize that this is the question he would ask you:

“Pity, you can make a man come…” he says in a dark tone, as you look up to find his eyes now looking quite stormy. “But they can’t return the favour…”

You felt yourself turn cold as Tom released your jaw and quickly retreated away from you, suddenly making you fear that the man was upset with the fact that you can easily pleasure Mattie, but couldn’t bring yourself to pleasure him.

But to your surprise, the professor pulled open a drawer and pulled out a black box which he set in front of you – before placing both his hands on the desk, eyeing your figure hungrily… as if he was studying the state of flush of your cheeks, how you shifted your weight from one leg to another, seemingly observing the way your knees twitched or how your thighs moved… to the dilation of your eyes and the way you parted your mouth…

“Do you want to climax?” he asks point-blank.

“What?” You stutter at him.

He picks up three-fourths of the amount of modules sitting on his desk, the pile you were supposed to bring back to the classroom, before pushing the black box closer to you. “I asked you,” he says again. “Do you want to cum?”

“Why do I ever –“

Tom find himself pulling out his glasses from his waistcoat’s pocket as he smoothes back his ginger-blonde curly hair, before narrowing his eyes at you. "It's all about equal opportunity," he starts, and you stand there -- slack-jawed as you watch him straighten up with the papers in his hand, proceeding to take up the aura of the tight-laced, self-righteous Professor he tries to embody as he seemingly starts to lecture you. "If you would offer to make a man come, then he should be able to cater to your own needs as well." He pushes the box closer to her. "Let _this_ be your release."

"What is in it –" You try to question, to argue, but he was already preparing to leave the room, giving you instructions to leave the modules on his desk upon your return to the auditorium, after having inspected the package he offered.

“You better find out for yourself,” he says with that dark look on his face, the kind that he often wears before he pushes you on the bed or eats you up like you’re his breakfast – before proceeding to turn up in school as if they have no prearranged agreements with the two of you.

And this made you turn red as you clutch the desk behind you.

“You can’t –“ you tried to retort, unaware of the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Let's just consider this as a punishment for arriving late to my lecture," he says with a chuckle… before slowly moving back towards you, leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek… the warm touch lingering peculiarly on your skin…

“You wanted to be in charge,” his whispered – his lips just inches away from yours. “Let this be the one time you say that I handed you the reins. The choice is yours to make,” He gestures to the box. “And you may choose not to take it.”

He bites his lip. “But then,” he continues, inching away from you. “If you don’t – then you don’t know what you are missing, love.”

Blinking at the way you were suddenly turning beet red, Tom flashes the most seductive smile that made your insides burn with _a whole new kind of need you never wanted to recognize_. “But if you do take up the challenge,” he flutters his eyes seductively to meet yours once more, those long eyelashes brushing his cheek. “Let me know.”

Suddenly aware of what he just implied, he composed himself before losing what’s left of his sanity (and prevent himself of personally giving you your release on top of his wooden study desk), he brushed back his hair with a free hand before approaching the door and closing it behind him, providing no more information about the object in the box he was offering.

“Don’t forget to bring the papers with you,” he added before completely leaving, the tone of his voice becoming flat and commanding, slipping back into his persona as a teacher about to stand in front of his students.

Taken aback, you grit your teeth -- hating how much he was enjoying this, making everything into a fucking guessing game. But you couldn’t deny that this made something within you stir, awakening a fire that you had to kill for a moment after taking Mattie deep into your mouth, considering how you were both _interrupted_ , and how much you needed that kind of _comfort…_

However, despite how frustrated you were with the cryptic messages Professor Hiddleston has been leaving around you lately, never thinking how he’s setting everything up as a game in hopes of keeping you interested (and of course you were too preoccupied with someone else to even notice), you mutter to yourself, eyeing the one-fourth pile of modules your _lecturer_ left for you to carry for him… as your hand slowly moves towards the lid of the box, wondering if you’d take on the challenge of whatever was _inside_ …

You lift the lid to see what’s inside…

…and your eyes widen in either shock, surprise… or even horror when you lift a phallic-shaped strap-on attached to a thong-like contraption that had a girth comparable to the professor you were fucking for your scholarship.

The sight of the silicon toy made you swallow a huge lump down your throat.

 

 

***

 

 

“Thank you Miss ______,” the professor politely thanks you as you settle the said modules on his desk behind him, as you feebly smile and carefully take your steps down from the elevated stage, ignoring the whispers and groans from the undergrad crowd.

However, as you slowly ascend the steps towards that seat waiting for you beside the man who was brushing his hair out of his face, waiting for you to return to his side, while suspiciously try to hide the awkward way you made your way up the wooden-floored steps… as if you’ve got something stuck in your shoe.

“You alright?” Matthew inquired in a whisper as you push your bag aside, sitting carefully on your chair. “You took quite a long time to do that task Hiddleston is asking of you –“

Well he was right. The class was halfway through the 45-minute video before you both returned, you coming in at least ten minutes after Thomas entered the classroom. You look at Mattie’s anxious green eyes that seemed to be probing you as you subtly pulled your skirt down over your bare legs – before raising your eyes to look at the Professor currently presiding over the lecture, your expression mixed with discomfort, annoyance, and determination… as you watched his muscles become tense as he was almost sitting down the table located in the middle of the stage, also seemingly watching you…

The way he gritted his teeth and tensed his jaw completely turned a few knots in your stomach, as he sent a silent message to you through his gestures that he has discovered that you wore the _present_ he left in the black box in his study. Of course, your walk and the way you kept on fixing your skirt gave it away. But with how he parted his lips as he continued with his lecture, and the growing bulge he could no longer hide in his slacks was enough to build a feeling of nervousness in your chest…

However, despite that glare you exchanged with Tom, ignoring the way he seemingly slipped his hand inside his pockets, clutching something in it, your thoughts were interrupted when you heard Mattie’s voice rising beside you, yapping about the professor _possibly taking advantage of you –_

“Who knows what he made you do in that study,” he muttered under his breath, pretending to take notes or look at his touch phone. “Are you sure it’s just the modules you had to deal with? Huh?”

“Oh hush,” you finally find yourself snapping at Matt’s pent-up jealousy. Your eyes widen upon catching yourself losing your patience with him, as you lower your head trying to hide the embarrassment of losing your temper. “It’s all business and school papers,” she said through gritted teeth. “And it’s all about helping a friend –“ You then turn to him, eyes seemingly accusing him of a crime he has yet to commit. “Won’t you help a friend when they ask you for help?”

Seemingly taken aback, Matt looks at you, green eyes wide as he shook his head. “Of course…” he whispered, his tone softening as he placed a hand on your desk, desperate to envelop yours – but he stopped himself once he heard Tom’s voice rise in the middle of explaining a topic of ancient Greek culture and their gods.

“Stop worrying,” you shoot back through gritted teeth as you pose to start taking notes as well, as the professor continually changed the slides on his presentation.

As you bury your nose in your notes, comparing what was being discussed by your Professor-friend and the contents of the module, you try to ignore the suspicious glares Mattie has been shooting from your right, as you would subtly glance in his direction – only for the man-child to redirect it somewhere else. Sometimes you feel like sighing, wondering why things had to be complicated, why Mattie had to be so trivial about all of this, and why Thomas had to be such a sexual deviant…

That’s when you heard something whirr, causing you to grit your teeth and _cross your legs_.

There was this warm, burning sensation that throbbed within you – making your thighs quiver as a vibrating motion began to silently rub against the inside of your pussy, as you slowly open an eye and look up at the elevated podium… only to find your Professor formally continuing with his lecture, discussing about Zeus’s appetite for sexual conquests… before turning his gaze back at the class… only for those deep blue eyes to settle on you… silently watching you grip the edge of your table, hearing and responding to a sound you can only sense…

And that’s when the whirring motion within your folds escalated… as you specifically noticed how Tom seemingly moved something within his pockets… before pulling out that large hand and his long slender fingers… to resume switching the slides to his presentation with the _projector remote…_

You felt your breath hitch when you realize that the thong you wore didn’t have just a normal strap-on…

It happened to be a remote operated vibe.


	12. The Punishment of Venus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you concentrate in Professor Hiddleston's lecture when you know that there's a _big distraction_ that is currently attached to your person?

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._

 

“The bull was snow-white, a sign from Poseidon…”

 

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._

 

“And by jove, ironically speaking,” He exclaimed as soft snicker was heard amidst a sea of students who were intently listening to him. “Minos just couldn’t bring himself to kill it…”

 

 

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  
_

 

 

“Apparently,” the lecturer licked his lips as he seemed to check up on his iPhone again, harmlessly glancing at it, before lightly pressing a button on the screen and pushing it back in his pocket. “The bull that was kept, emanated a mysterious beauty not all animals had, something which drew Minos to keep it…”

At that exact moment, you had to stomp down your foot on the wooden floor where your chair was standing – pretending that you dropped something, but the fact was you were trying too hard to stop your leg from shaking…

 

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  
_

 

You weren’t really that stupid, and you knew exactly that Thomas must have activated something to make the pulse of the strap on to vibrate faster, the humming almost becoming audible among the four people who surrounded you, including Matthew.

“And of course,” Thomas continued his lecture, smiling deviously at those blushing undergrads who listened to him intently. “The bull attracted Minos’ wife Pasiphaë towards it _sexually_ …” He raised an eyebrow in response to a few male snickers that were heard around the large room. “But who wouldn’t when –“

 

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._

 

“Pasiphaë found the creature so…” The lecturer closed his eyes and ran a hand on his collar, unbuttoning one or two clasps.

“Tempting…” he bit his lip and walked near this small gaggle of girls who wouldn’t stop gushing at that seductive voice he was doing.

“And so,” he whistled low, crouching a bit to somewhat imitate the creature as he passed by a few seats occupied by female undergrads, each watching him with awe as he looked at them with much ferocity of a bull. “ _Sexually invigorating…_ ”

 

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._

 

You grit your teeth, knowing that between the sexually-charged discussion, your lecturer’s comic yet unusually tense “performance” and the way he deliciously glared back at you if he could, the fixed stare your seatmate is giving your teacher (and would randomly shoot in your direction as you try to ignore him), and that vibrator thrumming in your pussy – you don’t know _which would drive you crazy first, writhing and climaxing on the auditorium floor…_

“That he found herself asking the genius craftsman Daedalus,” your professor exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the _kind of hell_ you were subjected to as he ran a hand smoothly through his waistcoat, addressing his audience like the theatre actor that he was. “To fashion for her a giant hollow wooden cow, in order for her to get closer to the majestic creature…”

The way he bit his lip as the class _ooohed_ and _aaaahed,_ with the way the gigglish girls couldn’t stop staring at how he seemingly touched his neck (like how he fucking always does when he’s speaking, making you wonder if it’s some sort of fucked up mannerism or his incandescently annoying flirting has been embedded in his system that it has completely become involuntary) didn’t help with the way the device within you throbbed and whirred, making you hang to his every word like liquid, and watch his every move as it increasingly drove you sexually paranoid as you are forced to glance at his gestures as he flaunted them in front of his class, retelling stories that brought out the rawest sensuality, tickling your intellect with its rich history… and definitely probing your innermost desires in tune with the vibe you have voluntarily planted within you to appease his request…

“That this…” he gestured to a projected slide that featured a raging, ferocious bull-like creature that you were so familiar with having read so many mythology stories as a child. “Brought about the legendary Minotaur.”

And it didn’t help at all when he flits those sensual blue eyes in your direction…

Seemingly seeing if you’re still at your form…

Or if you’re already wet and ready at his disposal…

Just when you thought that the whirring of the device has started to take over your brain, one of Tom’s cheeky students had her hand up in the air, trying to catch the Professor’s attention, as the man who was literally made of legs (and that disturbing sex appeal) walked over the stage towards her direction, eyebrows raised and ready for a question – pointed at her and called out her attention.

“Yes?”

This beautiful woman who was seemingly a senior, clearly flirting with your Professor-friend in her high heels and knee-length long dress straightened her glasses and licked her lips, silently proposing an affair with just her actions as her gestures caused your lecturer to mimic her actions and lean forward, licking his own lips as he anticipated her question.

“Would you say Sir,” she said as she folded her hands together like a bridge as she anchored her elbows admirably on her table as she crossed her legs, hiking up her skirt a bit, seemingly wanting to expose something to her attractive professor. Settling her sharp chin on her knuckles, she said, “That Pasiphaë’s little deed could be comparable to what happened between _Loki_ and the stallion _Svaðilfari_?”

You didn’t understand why, but you felt yourself scrunch up your nose at that particular student as you watched your Professor-friend return her flirtations, as he ran a finger against his thin (yet juicy) lips as he leaned back against the wooden desk that was found on the stage of the auditorium, stretching that light blue dress shirt as you can almost see his taut muscles straining against the fabric, as he placed both of his hands on the edges of his desk – seemingly having an open stance, as he beckoned the student to speak.

Little does he know that you were slowly becoming confused about that feeling forming in your stomach… whether it was caused by jealousy… or that whirring vibe inside your pussy.

“Loki and _Svaðilfari,_ ey?” Thomas exclaimed, taking his glasses off as he crossed his arms and leaned on one leg. “Would you care to share that particular story with the rest of the class, Miss –“

The girl bit her lip and straightened up on her chair, throwing her long hair over one shoulder, as she looked over her group of friends who were boisterously cheering her on along with the giggles that littered the air, as she flittered her eyelashes at the attractive professor standing on the stage and said, “Criselda – I’m Criselda Mays from your afternoon class?”

“Ah yes,” Tom exclaimed, looking at her from head to toe, seemingly liking what he’s seeing. And for some reason half of your head wanted to harp at him for this, asking him whether he just wanted to fucking give the Rosencratz Scholarship to this pretty undergrad and set you free in hopes that you could find a _less flirty_ benefactor; but then you had to grit your teeth when for some reason, _the vibe inside your folds started to whirr faster_. “Please Miss Criselda,” Thomas said as he withdrew a free hand from the bulge in his pocket. “Tell us about Loki and _Svaðilfari_.”

Criselda pretty much shrugged and gave the Professor a suggestive look as she lifted her nose up, feeling dignified of having been chosen to speak up in his class. You were now confused whether you were being turned on by that device humming in your center, teasing you, probing you; or that newfound _slick jealousy_ you refuse to recognize as you watch Tom lick his lips as she stood up – her full length almost reaching a full 5’10”… making it easy for her to easily march up to your friend in the faculty, pull him by his tie and suckle on his lips…

But of course you’re in the middle of reverting your confused look onto your almost empty notebook, save for the wrinkles on the edges and the random scribbles on the sides that you have been doing in tune with the _hum within you_ … Hoping that it would calm you down…

“According to the Prose Edda,” the Senior student spoke through those red lips, adjusting her glasses once more as she refused to take her gaze away from the Professor who was intently listening to her as he began to absent-mindedly stroke the fabric of his waistcoat. “The Gods acquired the help of a mysterious builder who offered to build a fortification for the God’s Realm Asgard in exchange for the hand of the goddess Freyja, the sun, and the moon…”

The way Thomas nodded, urging her to continue as he parted his lips and uncrossed his arms, made you feel something sickening fall splat from your stomach… and it didn’t help with the building tension that was occurring in between your legs…

Amidst this all, that sarcastic chuckling you can hear from your seatmate whose cock was earlier just in your mouth baffled you, making you wonder what’s even funny about this situation…

“Giving him rules, such as completing the work within three seasons, without any aid from anyone,” the girl continued, straightening her red dress as she stood there. Puffing his chest out, the teacher straightened himself up from leaning against the desk and moved closer to the edge stage, almost climbing down, as he tucked a copy of the module he had given out earlier underneath his arm, as he gestured for the girl to continue…

“Go on…”

Criselda felt her breath hitch as Professor Hiddleston began to climb down from the stage, approaching her, as she felt her lips part with every word. You sat there wondering if Tom is finally going to change his mind about this _torture_ and take another _“prodigy”_ under his wing… But with the way he momentarily looked in your direction with those piercing blue eyes, it made you think that maybe _this bastard is playing games with me…_

“With the influence of the Trickster God, the builder was able to convince the other gods to use his stallion _Svaðilfari_ to work on this mission… to which they discover that the horse has the capability to do twice of what the builder can accomplish,” she said, breath hitching as Tom began to climb up the steps, approaching where she stood. “To a point that they almost finished the fortification upon the end of summer…”

She continued, as the slew of eyes across the room turned towards the statuesque Professor who was climbing up the stairs, listening to her… seemingly beckoning to her…

“And did the builder finish his task?” He inquired, a thumb brushing his beard, as he would randomly play with the cuffs of the long sleeves of his dress shirt.

“The thing is,” Criselda continued, almost gasping as he got closer to her, almost towering over her. “The Gods blame Loki for this dilemma, to which the Trickster God vowed to do everything in his power to ensure that the builder does not meet the end of his deal…”

“And then…”

The more she spoke, the closer Tom got to the student, and the more you found yourself not just listening to the words that escaped the undergrad, but you also found yourself straining to read the body language that your Professor-friend expressed that you could not explain at all…

“That same night, when the builder went out to gather supplies with his stallion, a mare in heat appeared from the woods and seduced _Svaðilfari_ away from his master…” she spoke as the teacher stood in front of her, almost circling where she sat, as if he was the prey, the wild stallion in heat, and she was the mare in question. “The stallion managed to break free from his tackle, and follows the mare into the woods, with the builder running after him in an attempt to calm him…”

Awed expressions and a hundred pairs of ears were attuned to the story, as you watched the professor pocket his hands, his blue eyes tense upon the student telling the interesting tale.

As much as you wanted to concentrate on the subject matter, a throbbing motion in between your legs began to render you completely out of your mind, as it began to beat and pulse against your folds, stimulating your muscles with a faster pace, as you feel your panties, the new ones you just bought a month ago to make yourself feel good… slowly being ruined with the amount of lubrication you were giving the inserted vibe…

“And poor Loki?” Tom inquired, snapping Criselda out of her trance of just staring into his eyes.

“The Trickster God who was able to take many shapes was pursued by the Stallion as the mare in heat…” the woman exclaimed, a hand now shooting up to rest on her chest, her pulse quickening with how the attractive Professor watched her. Little does anyone know, whatever could be affecting Criselda was unconsciously bothering you tenfold with how you also watched that darned Professor from afar, as his little ministrations seemed to have a bigger effect on your mind… _and what his secret device was doing to your body_ …

“And she ran…”

You found yourself absent-mindedly watching Tom’s stride towards the student…

“And ran…”

The way he licked his lips…

“And yet _Svaðilfari_ wouldn’t stop pursuing…”

The way he flexed his arms as he crossed and uncrossed them…

“Yet Loki couldn’t stop…”

And how his face moved and defined his cheekbones whenever he clenched his jaw…

“Because if he did…”

Criselda licked her lips almost in tune with your thoughts and Tom’s movements.

“He knew that if _Svaðilfari_ caught the mare…”

For some reason you felt like the whirring in between your legs getting louder, as the fable began to make sense in your head… One has to be the predator, and another has to be a prey. The prey has to run or else they will be devoured, alive.

Half of your heart was hoping that maybe Thomas would finally change his target for a prey, considering how he haughtily circled and approached the undergrad who was telling the story, and the way he licked his lips and eagerly listened to her voice during the entire time. Whether it was your jealousy speaking or your logic trying to make sense of you, you knew it may have something to do with the lightheadedness the vibe within your pussy is causing you…

“If _Svaðilfari_ caught the mare… Loki knew he couldn’t change in time and he would be subjected to the call of nature and the heat that the Stallion is pursuing…” The student gasped, realizing how close the Professor was standing towards her, as she bit her lip, enjoying this kind of predatory approach from him.

You didn’t understand why, but you felt like sneering at the spectacle you were watching, how the teacher and the student seemed to play out the roles of the story subtly, and to think that this _particular_ Professor just sealed an intimate deal with you earlier…

But you knew this was not the case between Thomas and what you believed to be his _newfound_ pet when he sent you into an airspace of confusion when he once again turned his eyes at you upon the mention of the words “ _call of nature_ ” and “ _heat_ ” that escaped the student’s lips…

And you suddenly realize that you were looking at the _wrong prey_.

“But the Trickster’s energy was limited,” Criselda continued, her breath hitching as she watched the Professor standing in front of her, seeing him up close as he breathed and exhaled, as he puffed out that chest with his tight dress shirt silhouetting his taut muscles… “And sooner or later the mare collapsed and _Svaðilfari_ found himself upon her…”

A gasp escaped the class and you found one escaping your lungs as well…

…before you felt the setting of the device within you to double its pace, causing you to wince this time, unable to hide the tension on your face as you cross your legs, trying so hard to stop your hips from bucking with the imminent climax that was slowly ebbing within your center, slowly flowing towards the inside of your thighs…

“And that was how Loki begot Sleipnir.”

The impressed look on Thomas’s face as he opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and smiled would have been something similar to the thundering expression _you were dying to emit_ with the vibrator humming deep, low, and fast within your folds. But the way he clapped his hands along with the similar applause that was heard around the classmroom in praise to the student, as well as how he ran a hand through his hair wasn’t the ideal reaction to the orgasm you were trying so hard to delay.

However, seemingly oblivious to all of the hell you were going through, you painfully watched as he slowly and painstakingly rolled those light blue sleeves up and puffed out a gust of air, causing you to grit your teeth as you almost crumpled the edge of your notebook.

“Good God,” Thomas said with a bit of a mischievous smile on his face. “Is it me or is it getting hot in here?”

You didn’t know whether you dug your heels into the floor because of how Criselda bit her lip and fluttered her long eyelashes at your Professor-friend, or because of other things you were trying to calm down, try to control, and most of all _try to conceal_ from the classmate who sat beside you who was utterly unimpressed by the entire goings on in the auditorium.

“That,” Tom exclaimed as he ran a hand through his exposed clavicles, reminding you of how his small movements was _driving you mad_ and you had to grit your teeth wishing that _you would be bothered about someone else instead of this perverted teacher you were slowly becoming attracted to even if you didn’t want to_ … And the fact of how you would try to switch your attention to the classmate _you found yourself so fond of_ wasn’t helping with the way he crossed his arms and frowned in his seat, in tune with his sarcastic grunts and ironic chuckling that makes him look like a giant five year old about to throw a tantrum.

“That was an exquisite retelling of how Sleipnir came about,” he said as he clapped his hands at the woman who just twirled her curls at him, ignoring and lavishing the way her female seatmates catcalled about her… _and the attractive teacher whose attention they were trying to get_. “Thank you Miss Criselda.”

“My pleasure,” the flirt spoke back, pouting her red lips. “Definitely my pleasure, Professor.”

Smiling gaily at her as she sat down, as much as you didn’t want to care, there was an evident sneer on your face when Tom caught himself throwing you one of those soul-violating glares, and with the way he smiled momentarily – that cheeky, naughty smile that meant nothing but trouble… With this, you knew that you couldn’t hide the fact that at that exact moment, you were tense about three things: 1) How he flirted openly with the student in your presence, 2) the perfect mix of sexuality and sophisticated text currently playing with your mind; and 3) the fact that your insides are currently being pleasured and tested by a device that _was his doing_.

It didn’t help at all how Tom returned to the discussion, relating Loki’s sexual misfortune with a horse – among other things – contributed to the growing sexual awareness of the human race, how it helped shaped the pantheon of the Gods and how sexuality became sacred and revered in the eyes of man… not just that it brought about pleasure, but with the ancient people – it also dabbled with the sense of spirituality as well.

And during the entire time he did not resume his place on the stage, but he stood on the steps of the auditorium, just beside the seats of the giggling girls who tried to catch his eye, as the rest of the class had to crane their neck to get a better view of the teacher and hear what he was trying to say.

And during the entire time you were trying to pay attention to your Professor-friend and the class he was subbing, you couldn’t take your mind about the ebbing warmth that was causing you to change the position of your legs every minute…

That ascending ladder of desire that was building in the pit of your stomach…

That thrumming stimulation that was stirring your insides…

Teasing you of a mind-melting orgasm…

As you are forced to watch the man who was behind it all, smile and gesture about the class, as he walks away from you, leaving you completely unattended; as if he was a man who was secretly guilty of a crime and was walking away from it – Walking about that exact scene of a gruesomely erotic crime that was in the form of you writhing in your seat as you are sexually stimulated… through your _mind and body_.

The mix of the tension and the pleasure didn’t help with how Matt seems to notice how you weren’t taking notes anymore, save for the randomly created scribbles and doodles on the side of your notebook that doesn’t have to do anything with the subject matter at all, and a few isolated and highlighted words and phrases such as “ _mare in heat_ ”, “ _profound sexuality through literature_ ”, “ _gratuitous”_ and “ _sexual awakening_ ”.

“Hey,” you suddenly felt a hand on your arm as you look up from pretending to scribble whatever was escaping your Professor-friend’s mouth. You turn around to find Mattie worriedly looking at you, eyes seemingly observing your every move, including the way you shifted your feet up and down, almost tapping it, maintaining a rhythm only you and him can hear on the wooden floor that was secretly in tune with the vibrating device within you, slowly coaxing you into a state of madness…

“You okay?” For some reason you found comfort in those green eyes.

You bit your lip.

You weren’t okay.

There was no part of you that _was okay_.

Half of you were regretting the entire choice of putting in that phallus-shaped silicone device in your already wet and dripping cunt, making you wonder why you even considered taking on that _challenge_ when you didn’t know what you’re up against…

Half of you wanted to run back anywhere – anywhere private – where no one can find you, _where no one can hear you scream_. Whether it’s in the bathroom, or Tom’s study, you didn’t care – all you wanted to do is either fuck yourself with that damned vibe whose setting was mysteriously increasing at such odd times (though you’re smart enough to admit that Tom has to be fucking controlling the goddamn thing without your knowledge), or tear it off and fuck yourself with your own two fingers till you manage to release that climax that has been dying to claim you…

But half of you decided to stay put, to not move and give in to this insanity… And considering that suspicious look in Mattie’s eyes and the prying glance of the entire class… you wouldn’t risk them finding out or wondering about your sudden exclusion from the auditorium as you dart out _dripping wet_ … Since such knowledge of wanton activities may _somehow put your arrangement at stake…_

But will it?

“You’re sweating cold,” Matt whispered low enough for only the two of you to hear, trying to ignore the Professor who was currently discussing sexuality found even in the most basic form of mythological creatures such as Fauns and Nymphs, whose sexual legacy has been embedded not just in text and plays, but in art form as well. “Are you sure you’re –“

That exact same moment you failed to notice how Thomas once more pocketed his hands as his gaze shifted from the gaggle of giggling girls to his right, only to sweep it across his audience only to settle at two graduate students subtly talking almost near at the top of the flight of stairs he was standing on. And for some grand reason, he felt like clenching that one pocketed hand, causing you to wince once more as you felt a whirling fire within you to fuel itself up, causing you to rub the soles of your flats against the surface of the floor, wishing you could stand up and scream… and probably fall into a heap on the floor.

“I’m fine,” you can barely say those words without a moan escaping your lips, considering that the whirr of the remote-operated vibe was the only thing you can hear now, your mind drowning out the discussion in the lecture hall, as your consciousness was slowly succumbing to the imminent threat of the most grand climax you didn’t want to lose in the middle of a session – “I’m just _fine_ ,” you almost growled at a worried-looking Matthew who only furrowed his thin eyebrows at you.

“Look at you,” he exclaimed, his hold on your wrist seemingly getting tighter, even if you didn’t want to imagine it as so. “You’re shaking like a rattlesnake –“

 _Ehem_.

Just when you thought that you’d get a hold of your own throbbing senses that was about to catapult you into a climax that you just claimed that you wanted (but not at that exact moment)… You slowly see your own control slip away as you look across the room, following the trail of sound of someone clearing their throat, only for you to lock eyes with the unamused-looking Professor with his arms crossed over that tight, incriminating blue dress shirt, watching your every move as you unceremoniously yanked your wrist free from your seatmate’s grip.

“Miss _______,” he called you by your nickname, causing some of the girls in the class to raise their eyebrows and even turn their heads in the direction where their beloved Professor was looking at, trying to find out whom he was calling in such an endearing (yet unusually cross) tone, making you wish that he didn’t know you so _personally_ or _intimately_ for him to know that nickname only your father calls you by. “As we were discussing the facets and depth of sexuality even among lesser gods and creatures, could you lend us your voice and read Stephane Mallarme’s text?”

By this time, the whirr emanating from your core and how it literally soaked your underwear and your inner thighs was the only thing going on in your head, and it didn’t help how a small knowing sneer has appeared on your Professor’s lips, making it harder for you to focus – let alone hold a module or even focus on reading a text…

“I’m sorry?” You felt yourself wince as you felt the thrum within you now completely numbing your clit with the pleasure, as your head began to slowly float and drain itself in the clouds. You had no idea how unattentive this made you look like in front of the class, but at this point you have no idea what you’re going to do and the only thing that was hinging your sanity on top of your head was your classmate who was glaring at you from his seat and the last thread of logic that keeps on telling you not to orgasm in public and completely give away the conditions of your “engagement”… or worse… label you as a sexual miscreant…

“Page 32,” Thomas repeated, licking his lips as he looked at you with hooded lids, completely aware of what you are going through as you found him noticeably pocketing his hands once more. “If you could please read the passage –“

 _Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr_.

You almost gasped and launched yourself forward as the device within you throbbed harder, almost jumping and slipping from within your cunt if you weren’t wearing the necessary straps… or even a decently tight underwear. You were half afraid that you were already soaking up your wooden seat, and even have yourself dripping wet that juices would start to flow from the inside of your thigh if you dared to stand up…

“If you could start with –“ Tom takes his glasses from the breast pocket of his waistcoat, propping them on the ridge of his nose, making him look more sexy aside from the fact how intelligible and sophisticated he looked, not to mention it even emphasized that adorable divot on his nose… And upon noticing this just escalated that wild fire in between your legs… “Ah yes,” he said with a low growl, making you wonder if you just imagined that considering the fact that _you were dying to be fucked right now and you were good to go_. “You could start with -- **_As well as this sweet nothing their lips purr_**.”

Your hands shook as you slowly lowered your eyes on the text, after painstakingly moving your own fingers you cannot trust as you searched for page 32. You could have given Mattie credit for trying to help you, but you subtly held his hand down underneath the table as he attempted to, in order to calm him down (and yourself as well) and not further the fury of the Professor who literally is holding the entire game into place… like this lecture and the entire auditorium is his Chessboard and you and Matthew were losing pieces in a dilapidated army where only the King and the Queen were left standing.

Your voice began to shake as you attempted to read out the text –

“ _As well as this sweet nothing their lips purr –_ “

 _Ehem_.

The whirring in your head was getting louder and it wasn’t comforting at all that only Thomas’s voice could override it. You tried your best not to clench your jaw, but the moment you looked up, that mocking smile on your Professor-friend’s face would have been enough to make you tremble all over, _and you wondered why it was so…_ And the fact that the vibe within you was slowly unhinging your brain didn’t comfort you at all.

“Darling,” he said, placing both his hands behind him, keeping his voice as gentle as possible, seemingly appearing poised and polite, when clearly you can see with the way he clenched his jaw, that it wouldn’t be the same case if the two of your were behind closed doors and had no audience. Little did you know how hard he was with the fact that there were _a hundred students_ that were surrounding the two of you right now, and he has the remote to the device that was currently driving you towards an orgasm he coveted so much… “Could you speak louder?”

You could see that he could barely contain his own excitement with the way his smile twitched. “Better yet,” he said as he slowly began to ascend the stairs closer to where you and Mattie were sitting, trying to get a better look at you. “Could you stand up for everyone to hear you better with that wonderful voice of yours?”

 _Fuck_.

You were praying that no one could see the droplets falling from your head as you clearly took notice of how the man clutched his iPhone with a free hand inside his pocket, with the module trapped in between his body and his arm, as he straightened his glasses yet again, smiling gaily at you… wondering if you’d comply. But then again, you could feel your knees wobble as you slowly left your seat… refusing to step out into the open, considering the wet patches on your skirt may give your little secret away…

However, as you struggled to get a grip of yourself, your lecturer was busy humoring the crowd with anecdotes about you that are seemingly unnecessary, but if you bothered to listen (or had the sanity or the energy to), you would realize that these stories he had meticulously chosen were purposed to praise and enlighten the crowd about your intelligence –

“You should hear her recite Chaucer,” Thomas said, placing his hands behind his back again, as he turned to grin at the crowd, unbeknownst of how you were fidgeting in your place over a simple text. “I’ve heard her perform once – just once, and you would never believe the energy she had inflicted upon everyone present in the room – it was _exquisite._ “

Of course, that’s what he said – that he heard you recite Chaucer.

That was one time, before that fated Shakespeare monologues final that you almost botched with the memory of the same _friend_ who was busy liplocking you the moment you finished blurting out the line “ _I love you with so much of my heart that none of it is left to protest!_ ” If you paid attention to Thomas’ words, you would have probably furrowed an eyebrow considering that you did stutter in the middle of quoting an excerpt from _The Wife of Bath’s Tale_ … and that almost cost you your grade. But if you only paid attention to what he was babbling about, and wasn’t under the influence of a vibrator – you would have realized that this _one time that you were expressively splendid with your voicework_ was that _one time when he snuck unnoticed to see you perform that specific role of Beatrice’s_ in Much Ado About Nothing – that one line that convinced him how he was hopelessly so…

But then again, one couldn’t finish the sentence when _you couldn’t even accept it in your head._

But once more, we return to the topic at hand.

Hands shaking as you try to have mind over matter, courage over body, and disregard that bubbling and whirring within you, you try to forget how those _straps_ are digging into your buttocks as you raise your module, hoping it would shield your red cheeks from the prying eyes of the class as you start to recite…

 

“ _As well as this sweet nothing their lips purr,_

_The kiss, which a hush assures of the perfid ones,_

_My breast, though proofless, still attests a bite_

_Mysterious, due to some august tooth;_

_But enough! for confidant such mystery chose…_ ”

 

Your eyes widen upon realizing how _erotic this poem seemed to be_.

How can you be so stupid?

Your blurring eyes look down and realize that the poem you were reading is “ _The Afternoon of the Faun”_ , and what are Fauns known for?

They are known to chase down gentle and sensual nymphs… _and have their way with them if they could._

Your eyes rise from the paper to match that playful look on Tom’s face… but then you realize, that cheeky grin is gone and there was nothing left but the fire that was slowly building inside of him, ready to devour you, as he slowly parted his lips, just watching the words flow out of your mouth...

I'm You were unable to hide a shiver that clearly went down your spine, as you could hear the ragged breathing of your seatmate who just sat there, unable to barge into the discussion, unless he wanted to get into a complicated mess… A mess that he already walked in the moment that you decided _to have another lover_ aside from the one you already signed a contract with…

 

“ _I a-ad-adore it, the anger of v-virgins –_ “

 

 _Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._  

 

You grit your teeth, as you clutch the edges of the module, almost crumpling it into one piece if you lost yourself, making it look to the younger undergrads (who have started to whisper) that you were having quite a bit of a stage fright… Not to mention the way you suddenly rocked yourself on your heels, almost going up on tiptoes with the energy that was coming from between your legs. But little do they know that the Professor has a bodily control over you, and you could tell he could remotely operate _the device he got for you_ … but you couldn’t tell where it is… and all you could notice is how Tom licked his lips, focused his gaze only on you… as _he kept his hands pocketed the entire time you struggled to read…_

And how could you read at all?

Especially when the content of the text he is asking you to read in front of the class is in complete tune of that secret you are hiding in between your legs, that device that is currently making your knees wobble, that vibe you were wishing that is his cock pounding and drilling you on the wooden stage floor of the auditorium…

Making you flash that wanton image of your Professor pinning you down on your table in front of _a hundred people_ and ripping your shirt apart as he deliciously violates you in front of the man whom you just sucked before that class –

You didn’t notice how your pupils dilated, as you tried to get a hold of yourself, but you had to snap out of your trance when you heard a growl escape the male who was only three steps away from you.

“ _Please continue_ ,” you heard Tom hiss, making your knees quiver… and your insides burn with need.

 

Clearing your throat, you try to concentrate… even if a loud whirr was emanating through your body… filling your head… providing a sound that only you can hear, and your Professor can sense…

 

“ _I- I adore it, the anger of virgins, the wild –“_

You suddenly find yourself gritting your teeth, as the vibe that was slowly riding up against your clit began to taunt you…

_“Delight of the sacred nude burden which slips –“_

Mock you with an orgasm so great that it begins to throb from your center, shaking your knees, and making you lose your balance, causing you to grip your chair…

_“To escape from my hot lips drinking, as lightning –“_

And the entire time you can feel a hundred pair of eyes watching you, waiting for you to slip, and one set of those are equally glaring at you as they sat a chair away from you, wondering why would you allow yourself to be subjected to such torture, why would you enslave yourself to such a feeling…

But then little does that _friend_ know that something within you has awakened, as you raise your gaze to meet those blue eyes that happened to be the perpetrator of all your _bodily frustrations_ at that exact moment, seeing him watch you come undone…

Without even touching you…

 

You grit your teeth and try to finish the task at hand, unable to concentrate with that pounding fire, that vibe fucking you from within, threatening to consume you alive even before your Professor-friend can even claim you once more for his own with just his gaze --

_“F-Flashes! the secret terror of the flesh:_

_From the feet of the cruel one to the heart of the timid_

_Who together lose an innocence, humid_

_With wild tears or –”_

 

**BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!**

You would say that you have been saved by the bell.

And never have you been thankful for that sound of the gong that seemed to reverberate in your head as you feel that ebbing force within you subside, realizing it almost ten minutes later that the vibe has been turned off – as you quietly grip your module as you gently fell on your seat, your presence slowly being overpowered by the clutter and chatter of students getting up from their seat, gathering their things, and preparing to exit the crowded auditorium.

“Alright everyone,” You could hear Tom calling out amidst the students who were on their way out of the lecture hall, his concentration on you completely shattered by the end of the session, as he tried to evade the sound of his giggling harem of female students who were trying to get his attention. “Don’t forget to email your papers to Dr. Cohen before the Semester ends, the instructions are at the back of the module –“

As you fell to your seat, you completely ignore the way Mattie hurriedly packed his notes into his bag, as he hastily rose to his feet. As for you, there was this wave of disappointment that washed over you, as the tension going through the lower half of your body faded away, along with the mind-numbing pleasure that the vibe has given you… taking your sanity and peace of mind along with it.

And to top it all off, you felt a vicious surge pass through you as you watched that undergrad Criselda approach the Professor, who was currently putting away his books and documents, as well as a module or two that was unclaimed by absentees. You felt something _else_ within you burn as you watch the students surround your _friend_ as what you believed to be their ringleader reaches out and runs a hand along the hem of Tom’s waistcoat, causing the man to part his lips the moment her fingers left his person…

For some reason you wanted to get out of your seat and make your presence known in the almost empty auditorium: save for you, an impatient-looking Mattie, that crowd of female undergraduates and their classmate flirting with the Professor, and a very few handful of students you can count on one hand who are completing their notes and gathering their things.

You were lost in your irrepressible thoughts (which you believed to be a side-effect of having your orgasm taken away from you, or even delayed) when all of a sudden, you were suddenly interrupted by someone stomping their foot beside you, reminding you that _they were still there and was waiting for you to snap out of your sexually-induced (and jealousy-tinted) trance_.

“Shouldn’t we go as well?” You hear Mattie’s exasperated voice beside you, as a part of you regretted putting that strap-on vibe when it would just render you shaking and teary-eyed, unable to face your beloved classmate as you sat there, looking like a mess. “The hall is almost empty…”

“Y-You go o-on ahead…”

You couldn’t believe the shaky words that escaped your pale lips.

You saw those green eyes narrow down at you. “ _I beg your pardon?_ ”

Biting your lip, you close your eyes and clutch your skirt that was now clearly wet with sweat… and something more you didn’t want to recognize. “If you need to go on ahead,” you mumbled underneath your breath, almost gritting your teeth at him, even if you tried to be so careful not to lose your temper at the man you wanted to cuddle up with despite all your frustration… but your body reminds you that this isn’t what you need right now. “Please do. I’ll follow after you…”

“But…” You hear Mattie groan out your name… only to be halted when he found himself looking in that fiery glare in your eyes, a warning that clearly told him to shut up.

There was something in Matthew’s eyes you couldn’t put a finger on, but it surely wasn’t approval.

And it surely made you even feel worse in the _exhausted_ state you already were in.

“Fine,” were the words that escaped his pursed lips as he walked right past you and up the stairs, turning his head back to glance at you with a confused and worried look, hiding a hint of dejection, before pushing the doors open and marching out.

Suddenly finding room to exhale, you first steady your shaking hands the moment you rip them off the edges of your table, as you try to pack your things as fast as you can, just so you can escape the room without being noticed… But you just had to let Mattie go on ahead since if he helps you up your feet, he may suddenly notice why you’re walking funny or worse… dripping wet… And you just couldn’t risk ratting yourself out with the fact that you were wearing a heavy-duty vibe in the middle of class…

You couldn’t afford having your classmate have a hunch about the naughty details between the _agreement_ between you and the Professor, could you?

Even so, a small voice inside your head told you how much you were going to regret letting the boy walk away from you when you believed you needed him the most… Needed him to take care of your earthly needs and that throbbing fire within your body while the silicone toy fitted inside of you remained still like a dormant volcano about to burst…

As you were in the middle of trying to fit your module into your messenger bag, you heard footsteps going up beside you, towards the door that was about six steps up behind you. You raise your head only to find yourself face to face with the undergrads who stayed behind to flirt with the teacher, with their so-called ringleader with her pretentious glasses and red lipstick sizing you up from head to toe. Not wanting to lose to the game and at the same time stoop down to their level, considering that you are after all, probably five or six years their senior; you straighten up on your seat and give them the most professional grin you could muster… before Criselda herself had to look away as a friend of hers began to whisper in her ear…

You could only hear them slam the door closed behind you as you smile contentedly as you sat on your chair.

Heaving yourself up, you fail to notice the fact that the lecture auditorium was already barren, save for you… and the professor, who seemed to have stayed behind for a reason, considering he could have went ahead with the female undergrads, since he could leave behind the projector for the AV personnel to pick up…

But then again just when your hand was about to close on the doorknob of the single exit barred by double doors, you felt a shiver run up your spine, making all your hairs stand on an end when you hear a gravelly voice echoing behind you… filling the entire room.

“Where are you going?”

Your hands began to shake again as you nervously turn your head around to find _him_ , leaning against the wooden desk that is propped on the center of the stage once more, his body straining against that tight dress shirt, as you find him curiously peering at you, inspecting the state of your body _for some good reason_ as he eyed you up and down…

You have barely opened your mouth and have already turned the knob when you heard his voice once more, reverberating through that hall with the power projection he just did – “Lock that door,” he said with a growl, suddenly reminding you _that the vibe was still stuck in between your legs and you are at his mercy in case he does jumpstart it again – because this time if he does, you might just fall to the floor knowing that there will be no one else to see you but him…_

“Lesson isn’t over yet,” he said in that deep dark tone that just made you want to melt on the spot as he licked his lips and began to ascend the stairs towards where you were standing.


	13. Sins of Eros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lesson's not over yet." And that's just the start of the private session Professor Hiddleston wants to share with you.

You couldn’t believe your ears upon hearing him say those words – that the “lesson” wasn’t over yet.

What else is about to happen?

What else do you have to do – considering you already followed and willingly gave yourself to his ploy, considering the fact that you fucking ran out of time for your newfound _other lover_  to please you as you run for your priorities, only to find yourself in his trap?

What else could he need?

What else –

But next thing you knew, he had shifted from the place where he was standing and was moving towards you in this quick yet graceful pace as he slowly began to ascend from the side of the stage, approaching the steps that lead to the exit – that same exit where you were standing on. And as he moved slowly, and menacingly, as if he was taking his time at looking at you; he dared to swallow you whole with his gaze, as if he couldn’t make your panties any wetter with that eye-contact that would have been enough to send you through an orgasm if you weren’t trying to control yourself…

But as you tried to hide the fact that you were already shaken to the core and you wouldn’t stand another minute with _that vibe_ almost literally lodged in your cunt and forever pressed against your clit… You take a deep breath as you turn around from facing the door as you drop the first layer of precautions from your face, only to slip in your second set of masks as you glared at that attractive man who suddenly stopped in mid step…

You felt something inside you melt as Tom looked up at you from a lower angle, seemingly appraising you as you stood there, clearly broken but still holding your chin up high despite the close call of almost losing your dignity and moaning out in class as his strap on vibe made you cum…

The sad thing was, you haven’t cummed just yet.

And the sound of his voice would have had you squirming on the floor if you had no control of yourself at all…

And it was definitely tempting considering that the auditorium was now bare and empty…

Except for the two of you…

“On second thought,” his voice was deep and teasing now. “I want you to come down here…” He licked his lips, as he looked at you, unblinking as he moved back towards the stage – sitting on wooden floor of the auditorium elevated podium, waiting for you to make a move.

“Come down here darling,” he commanded, the baritone eating through your skull, and seemingly restarting the vibe inside of you with a low hum – as if he didn’t have to press a button. “Let me take a good look at you.”

For some reason, every step you took down the flight of stairs towards the stage ached… and every step reverberated within you, as you tried so hard not to look at the Professor’s direction, half-knowing what will come to you, and half-not-knowing what he’s planning at all… and this mix of emotions just completely makes the insides of your stomach flip, despite being drained with what the strap on vibe did to you earlier in class.

But only if you dared to look closely, you would see that there was something more than the pure syrupy look of lust that were wound in those crystal blue eyes…

As you painfully tracked your steps towards the front of the auditorium, your small steps slowly making its way up the wooden-floored elevated stage, trying to keep your balance… trying not to trip or fall over yourself considering you felt uncomfortable… _terribly uncomfortable_ … with the fact that your clit was swollen, your labia is needing some attention, and you were planning of hiding in the barely used ladies bathroom reserved for graduate students in the second floor to reintroduce yourself with what your fingers can do after almost giving up on them considering the tiring _activities_ Tom requested of you night after night… and we’re just talking about foreplay.

But this… your wobbly legs, that melting feeling inside of you as you walked towards the man leaning against the sole desk on the stage, caressing you with his glance that wished to eat up all of you, drink you up and remember that one moment that you were completely at his mercy…

Completely at his mercy to get that orgasm you were dying for…

And forget the fact that you initially didn’t want to give Tom the satisfaction of coming undone the first time around when he was pleading, crying, _begging_ for you to orgasm with him…

This time around, your own orgasm has been held for you for so long…

…you were probably willing to fuck yourself with your fingers in front of him, in front of an empty stadium, with all the spotlights focused on you.

But you had no idea if this was what he has in mind.

You tried not to get too close as you approached him, not sure what the touch of his fingers can do to your fragile state at that moment. After all, you were forced to sit through a class whose theme was sexuality, a lecture given by one of the professors who won last year’s “Sexiest Teachers” votation list among the students, with a strap on vibe cleverly designed and hidden in a pair of lace panties, with leather straps that dug through your thighs like love marks that do not want to be forgotten even through the test of time…

But as you tried to keep your distance, you could barely retort the moment he reached out and plucked your hand that you were hiding almost behind your skirt, as Tom drew you towards him, almost causing you to spin and crash into him, having your body almost collide against that lean yet muscled gait of his, with his fingers curling around your hand, getting a better grip.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you suddenly find yourself staring right at him, lips parted as you watch those pupils dilate… as he lifted a hand and framed half of your face with his fingers and his palm, affixing the surface of his thumb on the curve of your chin, lifting your face up as he lovingly inspected your expression… seemingly trying to read you…

 “ _How are you,_ ” his voice was almost a whisper, a low thrum emanating from his throat, the vibration going through the air, almost echoed in the sound-proofed room with all its doors closed – and slowly seeping into your person, _your very delicate person on the brink of losing it…_ “ _My love?_ ” He completed the question, your name rolling off his tongue, as you wonder despite all the disdain you had for him, that endless comparison you made between him and Matthew…  when you suddenly find yourself seeking his warmth and cherishing the touch of his fingers on your skin –

However, you did not lose your snark at all as you curled your lip and answered, “You were the one who put me in this state, Thomas. Why are you asking me if I’m alright?”

You saw it, yet you denied to see it.

The hurt in his eyes.

But despite that, he managed to gently caress your cheek – a sign of longing, a hint of forgiveness, and a whole new gesture that spoke of patience, as he parted his lips once more and thought about how he was growing fond of your sharp wit and how it stirred a fire within his loins…

“Sweetheart,” his voice was still as syrupy and thick as honey, almost pouring into your ears, setting you off to sleep in his arms. “Please do not accuse me of such…” He bit his lip as he looked away, releasing your face with a gently swipe – the back of his fingers running against the smooth apple of your cheek, still a gesture of fondness. “…things. You know I only want to introduce you to such glorious things such as a carefully hidden orgasm…” He bit those thin yet juicy lips, tempting you of a kiss – that you unusually craved at that moment. “After all, you did take up the challenge…”

The way he smiled felt toxic, as his venom started to spread in your brain, a trickle growing in between your legs again, this time brought about your subconscious, as the flutter within your stomach that was triggered by his handsome grin began to move faster and swifter than those of butterfly wings… _almost roaring within you_.

“And I am so pleased that you did.”

You bit down, as you hear your teeth gnash. It is true, you did take up the challenge. It was your own hands that slipped your panties off (and unfortunately, left it in his study…), and it was your own delicate fingers that slipped on and tied those leather straps snugly along your thighs, securing the device into place – along with that beautiful black laced lingerie that came with it, complimenting the delicateness of your crotch…

You look away, unable to hide the fact that you blushed.

But nothing prepared you for the way Thomas suddenly snaked a hand behind your head as he brought you closer to him, as your eyes were the only sign of retort when he plunged his aching lips against yours, drowning you in a kiss that he was obviously holding back for an hour – considering that the kisses he stole in the study were somewhat _chaste –_ Since he couldn’t stop suckling on your lower lip, or languidly invading the insides of your mouth with his explorative tongue… As you were completely unable to see the dying thirst forming on his face as he furrowed his eyebrows, tilting your body to meld towards him, as he ate you up with a fury that stood for a man who was dying of hunger – a hunger that lasted for days…

But this wasn’t the first time you felt limp in his arms, as your knees almost completely gave way if he wasn’t holding you… It wasn’t the first time either when you allowed him to devour your face with such passion, as he sank his lips deeper, almost nuzzling his pointed nose on the apple of your cheek, as he tilted his face to gain greater access to the inside of your mouth… Lapping up the juices that seeped from the sides of your lips, to sucking out the air you breathed, wanting to share that intimate space with you…

But this fire… this fire you were holding back…

This want, this need…

That shameless blind fury building inside of you…

That reservation that completely faded away as you watched him disengage from your lips…

And smother your neck and collarbones with his wet mouth…

Going lower…

You didn’t hold back…

Nor retort…

Suddenly you felt like going against your nature…

As you breathlessly watched your lecturer press his lips and smother his face against the fabric of your clothing that was holding back your breasts on spilling into his face…

As he slowly planted one butterfly kiss after another…

Working downwards…

And as you tried not to think of how he began to nudge the sharpness of his nose against your thighs as he turned you around, pressed your back against the surface of the wooden desk that worked as support…

Somehow you felt yourself grinning triumphantly as you watched this beautiful man make love to your clothed body with his aching mouth, as you thought to yourself that Thomas would prefer to bury his nose in an older graduate student’s chest, than to flirt and ruthlessly fuck some random pretty undergrad who would quote Norse Myths in front of his face as an attempt of seduction…

But that soaring feeling of somewhat _winning_ , suddenly crashed down into the deep pool of lust in your center, when you suddenly felt Thomas lifting your skirt, illiciting a soft gasp from your lips as you look down at him.

A pair of blue eyes, hazy with lust greeted you from below as he crouched down in front of you… a devilish grin forming on his lips as he slowly licked his lips, enjoying what he sees.

And truth to it… you can no longer hide the fact that you were drenched.

Completely drenched.

You were thankful that the panties were black, but it was completely soaking up the leather straps with your fluids. You were also thankful that you chose a skirt whose fabric managed to hide the fact that your wetness was taking over the insides of your thigh… and the fact the vibe has been turned off, or else you must have been bucking your hips at his face, asking _for it_ , and cumming just with the touch of his fingertips…

But what you couldn’t hide that drove Tom wild… was _the fact that your juices were dripping down the inside of your thigh… painting your skin, with your musk wafting up his nose as he deviously inspected you_ , seating you up on the wooden desk as he ran his teasing fingers delicately on your skin…

A low whistle escaped Tom as he had to remove his glasses, before returning both his hands on your thighs, spreading it even further.

“My my,” he spoke low, his voice now rough and hungry. “Looks like this little present I got you did quite a number on you, darling…”

He licked his lips, causing a very visible shudder to go right through you as you find yourself drowning in those blue eyes once more. “And my,” he took a deep breath, making you feel so perverted watching him deviously wafting in your scent, this wanton act even making you wetter… as another drip lined down your thigh… “You smell so heavenly, my little doll…”

He gritted his teeth and bit his lip, as he lifted his eyes back up to you after lustfully drowning his vision with your readiness for him. “I wonder,” he whispered, his breath touching the inside of your thigh as you grit your teeth and hold your breath the moment you watch him lean his face closer to your skin…

“If you taste as heavenly as well…”

…as you felt your skin burn with need as he ran a pink tongue from the inside of your knee up to the slope where your leg and your crotch was connected… lapping up a trail of your juice, as he painstakingly tried to flick his tongue towards the inside of your drenched panties, tickling the insides of your thighs…

“ _Gahhh!_ ”

A chuckle could be heard against you’re the inside of your thigh, as you had to stop yourself from thrusting your crotch against his face.

He pressed a soft chaste kiss on the mound of your crotch, almost driving you wild with need… before lifting his head, his lips clearly glistening with a naughty smile that just brimmed with the fact that he was completely basking and smothering himself with the ripe nectar of your juices, memorizing the sweet taste that you’ve accumulated through the majority of the lecture…

“So sweet,” he murmured almost mindlessly, as you can see him drowning in the experiment he has made – that lust machine he has coaxed out of you, by just carefully manipulating you to wear that vibe with your own volition. “So tender…” He suddenly pressed a soft chaste kiss on the dry patch of your skin. “I knew that I could get something nice out of convincing you to eat those fresh-mango flavored meringue I made on top of those cupcakes I asked you to take to school…”

You grit your teeth.

There’s the one thing you try not to think about – because it’s the one thing that _fucking turned you on_ , and it was the last thing you wanted to feel for Tom. What is this little fact?

That your little shit of a Professor-friend loved baking and cooking.

Sure he offered free food and lodging whenever you ask to avail of it… But as much as you were aware of the chocolate souffles he would make, those delicious sweet pies he used to make his ex whenever she’s stressed… or the fact he had this huge batch of cupcakes or scones to give away since he would go on a baking roll whenever he’s stressed or frustrated with those useless essays his undergrad students would submit to him after claiming that they understood the subject matter…

…you refuse to recognize _before and especially at that exact moment – that Thomas William Hiddleston fucking turns you on_.

Him and his fucking baking secrets.

And yet, you refuse to recognize the other things that make your crotch twitch whenever he’s around…

…and the iceberg is bigger underneath than how it is seen from the surface.

Yet here he is, smiling deviously down at you, licking his lips and savoring _your taste_ on his tongue, half closing his lids as he marveled at that wanton flavor, as he secretly contemplated on force-feeding you even more sweets made of natural fruits and made by his own hands… so he would have a reason to eat you up whenever he would please to do so –

And you can fucking see this on the preliminary orgasmic expression on his face, as a whole new _need_ began to form inside of you, with the fucking vibe still nudging your clit, and having forced to watch this _beautiful man_ (even if you keep on repeating to yourself that you’d rather be lusting after some other guy, even if you consciously know that you programmed your brain to be like this, in fear of how Professor Hiddleston can make you fall in love _and possibly break –_ but that’s for another time) tease you of what’s to come…

You were lost in the middle of your angry thoughts, your conflicting feelings, and that burning need to _be roughly fucked or at least given a proper climax_ , when you barely noticed how the blond man in front of you straightened up, wearing a worried look on his face as he watched you.

“Oh my sweetheart, what’s the long face for?”

You didn’t understand why, but the question just sounded as if it was said to mock you. And because of this, it ignited this fire within you – that you often used to fuel your anger for him, often mechanizing your deflective and defensive advances, that would eventually push you to say your safe word, and drive Tom into a frenzy of frustration that you can only see behind closed doors within those stormy dark blue eyes.

This time around, that fire within you _was igniting something else_ … something that made your stomach lurch, something you considered bitter and sour to the taste, _something you considered “not you”_. And yet, the pleasure of _acting upon this feeling_ , that growing need and your disregard for your initial thoughts of “how fucking awkward it is to be in a sexual contract with the man you considered to be your best friend and also happens to be one of the most esteemed educators in your university” – is slowly driving you to _do things you never thought of doing…_

 _…but it brought you great satisfaction_.

And Tom could definitely see it in your hazy eyes when you suddenly drape your outstretched legs over his shoulders, pulling him closer… giving you the satisfaction as he looked at you with complete wide-eyed wonder upon seeing you beckoning to him…

Your voice shook, as words you did not plan to say or expect at all escaped your lips…

“D-Do it.”

The look on his face was precious.

It was a mix of disbelief and pure lust, as he slowly rose to his full height – after coming face to face with your crotch, threatening to part your panties, move the vibe inserted into your cunt, and start sucking your clit till there is no tomorrow and the entire school knows that your precious Professor-friend is happily fucking is “fiancée” on campus.

“Oh my darling,” the voice that came from his lips was rough, and ragged. “Am I hearing what I’m hearing?” As you found your entire resolve melting within you, your cunt needing more attention as you were tempted to whine at your loss of contact with him, you barely noticed how his hand subtly moved towards his crutch… cupping his strained girth.

“Are you asking me to please you further?” He licked his lips, his blue eyes obviously undressing you.

You lower your eyes, as you try to shove Mattie’s worried (and somewhat jilted) expression before he left the auditorium at the back of your head, where your arousal dared not touch.

You grit your teeth as you answer in response to the need that was beating in your chest at that very moment, the same beat that rhymed with that pulse that was going through in the middle of your legs… even if the vibe was not operational.

“Y-Yes.”

You fucking couldn’t look in his eyes.

You had no power, no preparation, nor any confidence to face that burning train of pure lust and sexual energy about to ram right through you. But you knew that you had to raise your head when you heard the clink of a buckle, and the shuffling of fabric. And the sight of Thomas slowly removing his belt and almost folding it in his bare hands made your stomach drop –

“Do you want me to please you?” He growled as he held on to his belt, causing your eyes to follow the movement of his hands… as he suddenly took both your wrists, held them high above your head… and tied it up with his leather accessory… As helplessly hold your tied hands up, only to rest them at the back of your head, as you felt your crotch pool with even more flustered arousal once you watch him slowly unbutton his slacks…

You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth as you find yourself licking your lips, your eyes completely focused on those large hands reaching inside his pants… only to pull out that purplish bulge that made you widen your eyes in complete surprise having realized how fucking hard the man was the entire time…

“Yes…”

As the man clearly clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, you felt a lurch within you _as you realized that you were going to get fucked_.

With the darkness covering the sunny blues in his eyes…

The way he clenched his hand and wrapped it around that engorged cock…

And the way he slowly bit his lower lip…

You just realized how you literally just signed on your own “death by fucking”, and half of you were relieved that your so-called-Professor-Best-Friend whose sexual frustration over you could tower over the tallest building in the country… and yet the idea of being rammed up and made to scream as your mind and your crotch burned with the image of him filling you to the hilt just soaked the panties and the vibe still pressed against your clit –

You barely noticed it how your hands unconsciously moved to cup your soaked panties – when the man’s clucking tongue snapped you out of your trance, causing you to draw your hand away as embarrassment settled over you for jumping the gun, with the mischievousness in his voice ringing like a loud din in your eyes…

“Oh how eager are you, my pretty doll,” he hissed as he suddenly tugged at your hair, forcing your face to look up to his – as he managed to align his crotch to your mouth… that strapping girth threatening to be rammed past your glossed lips… just when a gasp escaped your mouth. “But first things first…”

The growl that escaped Tom would have been enough to make you come.

“ _Entice me with that gorgeous mouth of yours… and maybe with a little help of your tongue_.”

You gulped.

You could barely say a word upon nodding obediently (silently questioning yourself why you suddenly became so submissive just because of almost losing it to the promise of an orgasm, when he also clearly withheld it from you like how your classmate did after you sucked his cock), when your eyes suddenly widened upon your delicate little mouth suddenly being filled in with that throbbing girth that stretched the walls and pushed your tongue downwards…

“Ohhhhh… G-God…” Tom hissed in between his gritted teeth as he moved his hips twice to push his cock deeper into your mouth, almost causing your eyes to roll towards the back of your head as you remember how you managed to get rid of your gag reflex in the first place… as your mouth was suddenly filled the salty taste of his essence, that syrupy pool of precum sweetening up your tongue –

“G-Gods,” Tom gasped, as he struggled to keep himself still – and probably stopped himself from cumming straight after the first act, as he kept still and looked down at you – marveling at the way your mouth held his cock. “Th-That’s so hot…”

You tried to retort – until you remembered you could not, considering how his head managed to hit the back of your throat. But as you hummed, trying to respond, trying to fight back… the man shuddered all over, the sensation amplifying his need to fuck you, as you almost suddenly gagged with how he suddenly pulled out that slick cock out of your mouth – only to slam it down your throat again.

“D-Do you f-find this hot, doll?”

The way he pulled out and slammed back into your mouth almost made tears fall out of your eyes. And mind you, they’re not tears of pain.

 _Thrust_.

“D-Do you find me hot?” he hissed through gritted teeth, as you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to look up and be _even more aroused_ with that image of Tom’s jaw clenched, teeth gnashing against each other as he thrust his fingers deeper into your tangled hair, pulling hard at your tresses. “Do y-you like what I’m doing, baby?”

You fucking knew the answer to this, but you tried to shut it out of your brain.

And if there was one thing that pissed you off at that moment, it wasn’t Tom fucking your mouth. It’s the fact that your cunt is aching and you can barely even _deal with it_ , as your helplessly tied hands bounced against the back of your head… almost following the same rhythm as your Professor’s thrusts that had his cock painting the back of your throat…

And despite all this, you hated yourself for comparing the size of his cock with _someone else’s_ … And the fact that you wouldn’t admit that Tom could actually hit the back of your throat… and his girth could completely fill your mouth to a point you were straining… And despite circumstances and your choices… you refused to recognize that precum that tasted so sweet…

But you didn’t want to think about someone else while this gorgeous Professor was fucking your mouth. Oh God’s no. But you could be proud to say that you tried to… just to save your sanity. You tried to think of that sweet classmate of yours and his promise of a love not tied to a contract… A love with sexual activities not tied to sexual favors…

You tried to until he completely made you forget with how you were turned on whenever the Professor spoke dirty.

“G-God –“

 _Thrust_.

“Y-Your mouth feels so h-hot…”

“Do you like this, doll?”

 _Thrust_.

“Do you like how I fill your gorgeous little mouth with my cock?”

 _Yes…_ Your mind seemed to reply.

“Wouldn’t you prefer this filling your cunt instead?”

_…Yes._

“Oh but you keep on evading this great fuck, love…”

“Wouldn’t you want me to fuck your cunt instead?”

_Yes!_

“Wouldn’t you cum all over –“

“—this girth –“

 _Oh God –_ You swore you were about to lose control, and with the way his cock throbbed, you know he was close.

“And coat my cock with your sweet juices?”

 _Thrust_.

“Won’t you?!”

You felt like your eyes were about to roll towards the back of your head as the slick cock was starting to slide down your throat with how hard he bucked against your mouth…

“Oh,” Tom growled. “But you wouldn’t dare cum with me inside of you…”

He seemed to thrust harder this time, causing for you to wince – wishing he was now truly fucking you…

 

“ _Let’s take care of that_.”

 

The man slowly released an entangled hand wrapped around your hair as he slowly slipped it inside his pocket… pulling out his smart phone. Setting it on the table, you could barely pay attention to it as he pressed a few buttons, and went back to ramming his length inside your mouth. However, your eyes suddenly flew open as your entire body began to shake, when the vibe still thrust inside your folds began to stimulate you again… _shaking you to the core_.

_Mmmmmmmmph!!!_

You couldn’t help but scream – but you were currently gagged by that humongous cock that was fucking your mouth like there was no tomorrow.

And it didn’t help how aroused you were to see how Tom was slowly losing his control as well, as he completely left the blinking phone powering your vibe unattended, as he completely put his hip into fucking your mouth… filling the air with his ragged breathing and deep gasps… Completely soaking you to the core, in addition to that deep silicone vibe that was completely canting into you as it was _now pushed to the highest setting_ , hitting your most delicate spots –

“God –“ Tom growled, his hips completely bucking against your face now, as he held your head tightly, his cock almost slipping with the amount of saliva dripping from your mouth and coating his length. “You feel so good –“

You wanted to scream how his cock felt so glorious in your mouth.

“So wet –“

You wanted to scream how his taste is now forever stuck in your brain, and you would need it to get by, even if you secretly hated him right now for _activating your most secret kinks_ and making you want him _more than you could ever hate him and that damned contract that started it all –_

“Oh my G-God –“ His voice seemed to break. “I b-bet your cunt is even wetter than this, l-love –“

He was definitely saying the truth.

And the fact that he was currently facefucking you in the middle of an empty auditorium that was earlier filled with students? That feeling of being fucked with an audience just literally made you shudder all over – shudder with so much anticipation.

And that whirr of the vibe…

Driving itself deeper into your folds…

Making you suddenly wish it was his own cock instead…

That same cock invading your mouth, causing you to almost gag over it with how thick it was…

And this thought made your cunt quiver, shaking from your center and out to your knees that were flat on the wooden floor of the stage.

“Lord,” he hissed now, clenching his jaw once more, as he bent himself, trying to angle that glorious length in your mouth. “S-So moist… you know how to make a man feel so g-good…”

You felt goosebumps form around your arms and the back of your neck… And with the way he slowly untangled a hand from your curls as he gently and tenderly ran the back of his fingers on the apple of your cheek… tracing it towards the edge of your mouth… touching where his cock met your lips… You shuddered all over, in the same rhythm of the vibe throbbing hard within you… the moment he wiped off the mix of his precum and your saliva that was dripping from the side of your mouth and slowly smeared it on your lower lip –

“ _Hngh_!” He groaned in mid thrust, causing you to moan all about his cock. “I’m c-close –“

You didn’t know what took over you.

But you violently jerked your head away from that cock fucking your mouth as you withdrew your lips from his length, ignoring the way he loosened his grip on your hair as his face filled you with complete confusion – as he watched you withdraw your mouth with a string of precum clinging to your lower lip, attached to the head of his cock… Watching you as you caught your breath, flicking your hazy eyes up at him in mid second --

“N-No!”

These were the words that escaped your mouth smeared with precum.

The man furrowed his eyebrows, causing him to completely release your head as he backed away from you, the throbbing cock only inches from your face as he withdrew.

“What?” he exclaimed with much restraint on his face as he watched your horrified expression, almost backing away from his cock as if it was a monster… (Well it was... in other words)

“N-No! Stop!” you stuttered, your eyes still transfixed on him.

“Darling –“ he almost whimpered.

You sat there, arms still tied and dangling over your head, as the man stood and almost knelt in front of you – initially taking control, but now seemingly taking cues from you… as he waited for what you have to say as he tended to rubbing his swollen cock with one hand, wondering why you wanted to stop that wonderfully sexual act you were just sharing…

But between the whirr of the vibe still throbbing within you, the anxious silence shared between your pseudo lover-professor… Your tried to find the courage to speak through your pre-cum drenched mouth, and tell Tom what you _really wanted at that moment_.

 

“ _N-Not like that!_ ” You almost screamed.

 

The man was completely at a loss now, as he looked at you with a strained expression – a complete opposite of the feral predator he was assuming earlier in the classroom, and the seemingly tender yet fierce lover who was currently fucking your perverted mouth… He licked his lips once, as his hand managed to rest on your head… as you slowly see him sink behind the sexually dominant persona he always held between the two of you.

“Doll, you’re confusing me.” He pursed his lips, becoming cross – just the Professor you wanted at that moment. “What do you want?” He growled. _“Speak_.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the calm within you despite that vibe that was digging deep into you, fucking you hard like how you really wanted to be fucked, but yet the man who was teasing you with that good experience was growling in front of you – causing it harder for you to say those words you fucking swear will not repeat again after you dropped it in the heat of the moment on the first night of your contract…

Your lips quivered.

“F-Fuck me.”

You dared not look at Tom, or the way his pupils dilated upon hearing it, causing him to grip that purplish engorged cock that recently left your cum-smeared mouth. But you can definitely hear his labored breathing, and that soft moan that left his lips upon hearing those words come from you…

You lift your head, accepting your fate for that afternoon.

You needed it.

You _had to be fucked by him_.

“Y-You started this…” You stuttered, your completely strained visage – with your dripping mouth, as you slowly sat on the wooden floor with your exposed crotch, drenched all over… the vibe still shaking within it, hidden from plain sight. He can definitely see the twitch upon your inner thighs… and with the way your heels are clacking against the floor, as you tried to gain purchase and balance… you had no idea how he was slowly being consumed by lust, waiting for the right moment to strike --

“ _Finish it._ ” You growl, your eyes starting to get even hazier with lust.

That’s when you saw Tom’s chest heave.

“F-Fuck me, Professor.” You said it with much gusto, pursing your lips, completely driving him towards the edge as you slightly mocked him for _still standing there_ when you are clearly throwing at him a clear invitation to violate you.

“Make. Me. Cum.”

You completely blanked out after that.

Next thing you knew – Tom had picked you up on the floor and carried you over the surface of the wooden desk, as he threw all of the other modules and his notebooks on the floor with a swipe of his strong arms. Pressing your tied hands above your head flat on the desk, you watch with much anticipation as he managed to snap a few of your buttons open… before hurriedly moving his hands lower to pull your soaked panties down, coating his impatient fingers with your fluids… as a strained moan escaped your lips the moment he slowly pulled your panties down… dragging the vibrator out of your cunt with it…

“So wet…”

You had to hold your breath as you watch him take it off your legs as he brought the still throbbing silicone toy to his face…

As his eyes flicked towards yours, making sure that you’re watching…

Before letting a pink tongue slip out of his mouth as he licked a trail of your juices that had soaked the device… as he threw his head back and savored the delectable taste that came from you…

…and you felt your chest tighten as if you couldn’t get any wetter with what that kinky professor of yours was doing.

Seeing you squirm, he sets the vibe aside, carefully placing it down on the floor – giving you enough time to catch your breath. However, the moment he resurfaced as he took his position over you – his throbbing cock now threatening to take the place of the vibe that has been fucking you for almost an hour now – you felt your insides tighten as you felt yourself moisten up even more for what was about to come…

“Playtime’s over,” he growled, hovering above you. “It’s time to go to work, my darling –“

His hand moved back up to affix your wrists against the surface of the desk, keeping you grounded on the surface despite the fact that you have started to squirm against his hold, not because you wanted to break free – but _you were dying to be fucked._ And it didn’t help with how he slowly moved his other free hand along the length of his shaft, his labored breathing becoming more audible with how close his face was to yours… as he slowly nudged the head of his cock against your swollen, dripping folds…

You weren’t able to hold back a small, strained whimper as he managed fit the head of his cock inside your cunt… only to drag it back out again.

The more he teased, the more you squirmed.

But this wanton torture…

The way he bit his lower lip, almost making it swell as he enjoyed that mental and physical teasing he was inflicting on you, was making him look even more strained, twice more attractive, with the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, with those blue eyes burning with a whole new fire that wanted to consume you…

And it didn’t help with how your insides ached with the need to be stretched, and yet all you kept on receiving was just the tip of his cock, slightly nudging, slightly probing… as you wished you could break free and grab him by the hip so he’d completely fill you to the hilt… Yet you knew – you knew deep inside that despite that sexual satisfaction you were about to receive, from this man, this friend of yours, this well-respected Professor who would lose his sanity whenever he managed to have the chance to be intimate with you… you would end up regretting it and berating yourself afterwards…

You would regret it to a point that this little event, this clandestine affair, this specific occurrence in the auditorium, would go into your shelf of “Things-I-Would-Push-Down-The-Back-Of-My-Head-Whenever-I-See-Him-Pass-Me-By-In-The-Corridor-While-Smiling-At-Me”…

And yet, at this exact moment, you had no cares for those reservations in your mind… because all you can think of is how that girth would give you so much satisfaction…

And that was when you found yourself struggling once more against his hold, trying to buck your hips closer to his cock, causing him to snap out of his trance of enjoying this tenderly erotic moment between the two of you, as he fulfilled his need of repeatedly watching himself coat his cock with your dripping juices accumulated through the entire session with the vibe on…

“ _Goddamn it, Thomas! I’m so fucking close!_ ” You find yourself growling. “ _Won’t you just give it to me–_ “

You weren’t able to finish the sentence when all of a sudden, Tom gritted his teeth and suddenly released your wrists… as his hands flew right into your inner thighs, bringing them up, as he completely drove his rigid cock right through your swollen folds, pistoning his hips in one full movement, as he buried himself to the hilt… still throbbing…

The squeal that escaped you would have reverberated all over the room.

It equally matched that deep groan the man above you has emitted, as you dared to open your eyes to look up at him… Only to find him completely submerging himself in the sensation, looking even more attractive with his curly hair almost gelled back, as he strained himself with his eyes closed, lips parted… only to bit his juicy lower lips as he bucked his hips a bit… seemingly driving his length deeper into you, causing you to grit your teeth and squeal –

“Gods I –“

Tom released his lower lips as he purred low, as he gently opened those hazy blue eyes and looked down at you… as he released your hip and slowly ran a shaking finger down the length of his cock and towards the spot where you and he are connected… before gently nudging your clit with the pad of his finger –

And that’s when you were completely unprepared with the orgasm that hit you.

From the heat that came from your swollen lips that currently throbbed against his enormous girth, a thunderous shudder moved from between your legs and up to your womb, hardening your nipples barely hidden behind your shirt with the buttons popped to reveal your cleavage… As you throw back your head and succumb to an early orgasm that shook you to the core. And of course, how else can you hold back – considering that you started this day off by wantonly sucking your classmates cock, only to run late into your lecture and be punished for that by wearing a strap on vibe as your deliciously gorgeous professor (whom you won’t be caught dead admiring) delivers continues to speak about the topic of literature and sexuality…

And after delaying that orgasm for so long?

It swept over you like a rising tide, drenching you from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair, as your so-called lover held your thighs up, almost flat against your stomach, ignoring the way you curled your toes with your feet high up in the air…

“Oh my darling,” he said almost breathlessly, kissing your forehead oh so chastely, in contrast with that wanton position he was holding you into. “That was wonderful…”

But you felt your insides twitch when he suddenly growled. “But that wouldn’t be the last…”

Licking his lips, you felt yourself tighten all around his length once more as you helplessly watched him fuck you not just with his cock, but also with those killer blue-eyes as he whispered, “I will make you cum again. Just you wait my darling…” He said through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming faster. “I will make you cum – _harder_.”

You could only gasp when he suddenly pulled back, almost taking his entire length out of your quivering pussy – only to slam back in with one full stroke, causing your entire body to quiver once more with the rough contact, illiciting a harsh moan out of your lips…

You felt all your muscles tense back the moment his hands travelled from the inside of your thigh up your porcelain legs… taking a firm grip on each of your ankles, his lean fingers almost touching the straps of your pumps, as he pressed both your feet on other ends of the desk, causing you to completely widen the space between your legs… Giving you a clear view of how he was fucking you once you dared to look down from his face…

Releasing a grunt, you see him bury himself to the hilt, as he repositioned his feet on the floor – putting all of his weight on his toes and on his hands still pinning your ankles down on the surface of the wide desk, testing your capability to do a split… as he began to pump his cock in and out of your pussy… As he displayed brutal strength by pushing himself up and down on you, with your legs spread wide, gravity doing its job as he lowered himself onto you, his hips bucking with every thrust…

The beautiful mix of pleasure and pain – your legs outstretched with your muscles being strained and tested… and that pressure coming from his hips as he repeatedly drove his cock within your folds, causing you to whimper at the sensation of it, your repeated ministrations shared with him slowly causing you to memorize its length, the veins that ran along the side of it, and how it hit your most delicate spots… making you scream…

“ _Oh God…_ ”

“Oh!”

“Jesus, you’re so t-tight –“

“Augh! It feels… _so… good…_ ”

He began to slow down for a while, as he turned to look at you, eyes still closed, your entire body shuddering with his hold and his touch, and the way he ruthlessly fucked you… as he parted his lips, his curls becoming unruly as a stray lock fell upon his forehead, while he was in the middle of trying to read you…

If you were truly enjoying this…

If you truly wanted this…

If your emotions were genuine…

Or if you were only allowing him to fuck you because of the dire need of not having to be sexually pleased by your _other_ lover earlier…

He closed his eyes and resumed the way he gyrated his hips against yours, slamming into you hard, as you littered the room with your moans and whimpers, telling him not to stop, encouraging him with your little moans, and crying out his name when he hit too deep… And all Tom could do was bite his lip and savor this little moment when you were completely under his power, begging, pleading for him to give you that release you say _you couldn’t find anywhere else_ … As he pushed that fact that you were probably thinking _of someone else_ as he was becoming roughly intimate with you…

“Do you like this?”

That seductive voice laced with that pleasant English Accent was all you could hear as you slightly open your eyes, seeing his delicious form just leaning above you, as he continued rocking his hips against yours… the sheer gentle fabric of his slacks hitting the inside of your thighs as he continued on with his rhythm… slowly thrusting faster… and harder…

“Y-Yes…”

“Do you like how my cock fits perfectly inside of you?”

The gentleness of his voice and the roughness of how the word _cock_ rolled off his lips was enough to make you quiver again. “T-Tom –“

“ _Answer me_ ,” he growled. “ _And call me Professor_.”

This completely took you by surprise and you knew he had to pause – only to thrust harder once you felt yourself tighten all over his cock, completely taken aback and completely aroused by his command to have you call him by his title. But yet this only pushed him forward to become more ruthless, to be more rougher, as you slowly watched him transform into this brutally forward sexual beast you didn’t realize you had a kink for…

“Y-Yes…” your voice faltered, as he moved his head closer to yours, taking a deep breath before slamming into you again. “P-Professor…”

“ _Good girl,_ ” he growled, picking up his rhythm.

The moment he suddenly released your ankles and he placed both his hands on your hips, you knew he wasn’t going to last long as he suddenly lost his rhythm and his thrusting became erratic, causing you to slide backwards against the surface of the wooden desk as your feet swung back against the edge of the table, the back of your shoes hitting the side of the desk in time with how he fucked you…

And that was when you felt your entire body blank out when a whole new heat was emanating from your center.

 _Grunt_. “Hngh –“ _Thrust._

“P-Professor –“ You whimpered.

 _Grunt_.

You felt your insides weaken as you felt his nails dig into your hip, as you look up to find a small devious smile slowly spreading across Tom’s lips.

 _Thrust_. “Hngh – isn’t that perfect –“

He found himself burying himself deep into you, catching his breath, before grunting once more, plowing his cock into you in the same rhythm to which he bucked his hips.

“Y-You’re close –“

You close your eyes, completely ratted out by your body. “T-Tom –“

He growled. “ _What did I tell you –_ “

Your lips quivered, remembering your mistake. “P-Professor –“

“Good,” he said, displaying that roughness and that deviousness you secretly wanted, but wouldn’t be caught saying out loud. “Now you cannot hide it from me how close you are, my baby doll.” He gritted his teeth, slipping a hand underneath one of your thighs, giving him deeper access into you, causing your own breathing to become labored in tune to the shrieks you have been releasing, almost bouncing off the walls of the auditorium. “You’re going to come – _with me_.”

Your pupils dilated. “N-No –“

You couldn’t retort anymore as your body violently bucked against his when he used his other free hand to gently rub a slender finger against your swollen pink nub, just above the folds where his cock was plowing into you.

Pressing his chest closer against yours, till all you could see were those angry blue eyes, he hissed against your face. “Do not deny me _or yourself_ of this climax, my darling,” he growled. “Because you and I know, and your body would not lie to me – _you want this_.”

He took a deep breath, pausing before delivering the storm.

“ _So I’m giving this to you._ ”

You don’t know how, but the moment he thrust himself fully into you once more, you felt your entire body convulse as you completely blank out – your mind complete spacing out, completely making you oblivious to that ear piercing scream you just let out as your second orgasm completely claimed your entire body… And you were half-thankful afterwards to find out how sound-proofed that auditorium was… or else the whole school had already known how intimate you were with the Professor…

And that same Professor didn’t hold back either, as he released his hand from your nub… only to slam it on the wooden surface of the desk, as he completely filled you with his cum, drenching your insides with his juices, as your cunt tightening around his swollen cock completely milked him for what he was worth… As his eyes rolled towards the back of his head, biting his lip in ecstasy, finally realizing that he was able to achieve that one thing he always asked of you… an intimately shared orgasm.

But for the two of you to achieve it… had to take this whole roundabout that almost drove you insane…

And it even had to happen inside the University Auditorium… of all places…

By the time you got back to yourself, you were completely aware of how he gently pulled himself out of your folds… as well as freeing your wrists from your belt, gently setting it aside, before staggering on his feet, falling seated on the wooden floor like a little boy who got too exhausted for playing around too long… as he subtly and quietly tucked that now flaccid cock inside his pants, as he placed two hands behind him, holding himself up from completely collapsing on the stage…

You sit up on the wooden desk, looking down on him as both of you caught your breath… only for you to wince, seeing the mess you both made on your skirt and the edge of the desk… Causing you to cluck your tongue as you laid your eyes on it.

Without another word, Thomas rose from the floor and slowly circled the desk you were sitting on, obviously stealing a glance towards you, as you clearly tried to avoid his gaze… As he pulled open one of the compartments behind the table, and pulled out a towel.

“You do come prepared,” the words raspily leave your mouth as you struggle to get back on a sitting position, watching him catch his breath, his dress shirt partially opened… that beautiful muscled chest heaving… as he tossed the towel in your direction.

“Of course,” he said, looking down. “I have to come prepared…”

He smirked a bit, running the back of a finger past his nose divot, as he sat on the other edge of the desk, watching you clean up after yourself… “After all, a man has to give it his all when he feels like he couldn’t please his lover at all…”

With no shame and that utter boldness that seemingly jumpstarted a whole new kind of arousal within you that you tried to kill with the memory of a pair of brilliant green eyes in your head, he smiles at you and says, “Don’t you think, darling?”

You didn’t know what to say when he suddenly leaned towards you and gently ran the pad of his thumb against your lower lip, seemingly preparing to kiss you…

But upon seeing that calculating look in your eyes, he suddenly pulled back… gently running the back of his fingers on the apple of your cheek instead as he got up, subtly eyeing the mess left on the edge of the table as he pulled the towel from your hands. “We better fix this up before the janitor arrives,” he exclaimed as he gently helped you off the desk, before pulling the vibe you wore earlier off the surface, carefully handing it to you as he began to run the towel you just used against the surface of the table, leaving no trace.

As you watched him busy himself about, trying to hide the trace of your clandestine activities, you couldn’t help but wonder why he stopped himself from kissing you when he just did it fearlessly and boldly in public that morning…

Shrugging it off, you folded the fabric of the strap on around the silicone toy before pulling your skirt down; planning to approach that bag you left on the edge of the stage, so that you can hide the notorious device in it before anyone else could see.


	14. The Cupcake Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle in this period of lul as you try to get over the events that happened in the Auditorium with the Professor. However, when your best-friend-turned-secret-lover suddenly takes you out to a date in a sweets shop, you discover a beautiful little gift waiting for you.

“Alright class,” Professor Percy Darling said feebly as he adjusted his glasses. “I want those reports in before the 20th, and preferably in hard copy –“

You yawn amidst the noise of your classmates packing up their iPads, notes, phones, ballpens, and other school materials in their bag. Surely Professor Darling still continued speaking, but this barrage of students who couldn’t help but ask him a question about the upcoming Journal Critique deadline started crowding in front of him again. His speech cut short, he turned to the other students who are preparing to leave the room, shouting a mousey-sounding “Goodbye! Have a great weekend!”

On the other hand, there was one student who was too lethargic to even give a damn, and that happened to be you. You found yourself people-watching as you observed those forty-something classmates of yours who are trying to pursue their PHDs, bothering the poor twitchy Professor Darling, who started leafing through his book hurriedly while being cornered by Mrs. Whitaker –

Even though Professor Darling is literally thrice your age, mostly a sniveling little coward who stutters every once in a while and is considered the butt of jokes in his department… There was something in the way he worriedly shot Mrs. Whitaker and Miss Nancy Jones a smile, and the way he bumped his back against the teacher’s table atop the raised platform that made you horribly curious…

After finding yourself gaping at your Professor’s seemingly _familiar_ gestures…

You find yourself quickly leaving your seat as you began to massage the bridge of your nose, feeling horribly fidgety with your cheeks flushed.

It was the little things.

It was _always_ about the little things.

You just see your Professor accidentally bumping her papers off the desk and you watch them spill on the floor… You see Professor Lutz, that old fart, walking around in a new brown waistcoat… You hear something tapping in class and find that it’s a pair of shoes bumping repeatedly against the metal leg of their chair as they seemingly followed a rhythm in your head, when it clearly played a different rhythm in yours…

And you always felt your stomach in a twist whenever you pass that auditorium…

And yet every single time you are brought back to that one event…

Every single time you remember…

You remember the outlines of the veins on that thick cock…

And you remember it sliding slowly inside of you, coating itself with your juices…

And what drives you to the edge is that face agape, his mouth parted, and those blue eyes with its pupils dilating –

Every motherfucking time you remember, you find the need to rub one out.

Once in a while you succeed – when you find an empty broom closet, when you find an unoccupied classroom with a working lock, and especially when you find yourself in an empty student’s bathroom after hours…

And God forbid that _he_ ever find out about this.

It was a problem that _your lust_ was starting to spiral out of control, and the more you find yourself picturing that angled smile, that strong jawline, those taut muscles underneath those well-pressed dress shirts, and those clear cool blue eyes that looked at you as if you’re the only thing existing in this universe and at the same time the most scrumptious expensive French dessert he has been craving for ever since his deceased Aunt stopped cooking it…

Suddenly, you feel bitter about the thought of losing control, when it was the only weapon you had against him.

Suddenly –

 

“ _Where are ya goin’ Poppet?_ ”

 

You left in such a hurry that your heels were clicking wildly on the floor and you were walking in such a way that you didn’t notice that your ass was literally swaying from side to side, making the male undergrads who passed you by take a second look – and possibly think about shagging a hot Grad Program student in one of the unoccupied classrooms. It was that fake Cockney accent that came from one supposedly closed door in a classroom that had been vacated an hour ago that snapped you out of your delusional sexual thoughts, as that certain twang suddenly got the heat inside of you a-knocking again as you turned to face him.

You bite your lip as you watch him, that cheeky smile and that hair brushed to one side, prominently framing his angled face.

“You little –“

You could barely say a word when Mattie grabbed you by your collar, dragged you in the dark classroom with him and slammed you against the wall, smothering those pouty candy lips against yours.

A gasp would have escaped your mouth if he allowed you to come up for air, but considering that you both haven’t seen each other in two days, him working at the theatre and you running some errands to keep that flat you were about to lose – You suddenly didn’t care if you were making out and eating each other’s faces like two lovers separated from a war inside an empty classroom, not caring if someone would walk in, like an undergrad or a certain Professor –

All you can think of was the way he suckled on your lips, and the way he tilted your head…

As well as the way he breathed and the way he grinded himself onto you, that erection bulging in his jeans scraping up against your thigh…

You finally felt yourself gasp sharply as he dragged his lips down from your mouth down the slope of your neck, nipping wildly at the base, showing you that fiery intention that he wants to do more than press you against the wall and steal the breath out of your lungs…

Your eyes met with his green ones as he looked at you hungrily, that brown chestnut hair now shrouding those lust-filled eyes as he seemed to subtly ask you to take this little romp of yours to a whole new level…

Against the wall…

In an empty classroom…

You almost lunge for his lips and open your legs wide, something you never thought of doing for _anyone else but Mattie_ (save for that pesky Educator you had a contract with, but of course, we don’t like discussing complicated matters and outright denial)… When the sound of giggling and high-heeled footsteps got too close to the classroom you two were hiding in; the voices clearly talking about “watching porn in the dark in an abandoned classroom to avoid hall monitors”, causing the two of you to turn red and quickly jump off each other in case those silly Freshmen Undergrads could even catch you actually _doing what they intend to watch_ in public.

Straightening his shirt and wiping drool off the side of his mouth (and you’re not even sure if it’s yours or his); Mattie watched you with this raw desire as you straightened your skirt and brushed your hands down your blouse…

“Sorry about that,” he started, placing a hand behind his head, his eyes darting sideways as he tried not to watch you run your hands through your curves, straightening yourself up.

“It’s no big deal,” you said with a sweet smile, your heart fluttering when you see him turn to you and return it with something even sweeter. “How about we take this somewhere else?”

You swore that there was this film of panic that went through those green eyes for quite a bit as he shrank against the wall he was leaning on, somewhat making your heart melt inside it’s cage for a bit… But the moment he turned to look at you with those deep eyes, seemingly questioning you what you had in mind, with a mischievous grin forming on those lips.

“What are you planning, baby?” He teased.

You bite your lip. “Want to take this to the mess hall?”

Matthew laughed, clearly turning red, those cute pinch-able high cheeks twitching a bit upon hearing your seductive proposition. “Are you serious?” he said, that English accent completely sounding clipped and a bit shaken. “You wanna do this in public –“

With his reaction and that imminent rejection towards the plan you loosely proposed (even if you were just joking) suddenly made your smile fade away; causing you to think about _that one person_ who would definitely take this all the way in the Mess Hall… And he’d definitely do it given that no one else was watching.

But then again you find yourself thinking about him, and you had to shake your head off the thought of it, as you find yourself looking at that handsome young man who was shy enough not to take your descent into sexual perversion out into the open. Not like some oversexed little Humanities twerp who –

You shake your head again and try not to think of _him_.

Not him. Not now.

“You silly bee,” you say once you have composed yourself, despite your own cheeks being beet red, as you ran a hand on his chest, causing your insides to flutter when you felt him gasp as you drag it up to gently cup his chin. “I was thinking of sharing a pudding or cupcake in the Mess Hall, what else were you thinking?”

That naughty smile that appeared on Mattie’s face somewhat gave you hope that you found just the perfect person you could be freely perverted with.

Or so you thought.

 

 

***

 

 

The one thing you loved about your University is that aside from having its typical Mess Hall and quality catering service; its’ International Standing allows you to have more than what the kitchen has to offer. Backed up by well-known sponsors and franchisees that work with the External Affairs Committee (who handles all the food joints within campus), they accommodate small establishments of certain famous food chains, as well as classy little joints that are student-run or handled by small-scale entrepreneurs trying to break into the food business.

It just so happened that there was this new pastry-delights shop that was slowly becoming a student favorite right in the middle of campus.

The Cupcake House had been open for less than a week, with its quaint little shop that accommodates about ten people, that sweet-smelling atmosphere, a decent little beverage menu that compliments those cupcake delicacies that could be found displayed in front of the counter. You and your friends have been eyeing that big orange sign that had been standing near the foyer for almost three months now, and all of you were delighted to find out what it stood for.

Now if there was one thing you and Matthew shared, it’s your love for sweets. And he was the first one to tell you about this cupcake shop that had salted caramel frostings– something that really tickled your fancy.

Knowing that the undergrads that often frequented this shop have already been dismissed and were probably off to the pubs an hour and a half ago, the two of you exchanged cheeky smiles knowing that you both had the shop to yourselves… aside from a few undergrad couples and one group of grad students who were working on their culminating paper.

“So,” your brown-haired companion gazed at you cheekily, those thin eyebrows twitching as you both approached the display case that held dozens upon dozens of colorful-looking cupcakes. “Let me guess, you’re getting the one I suggested.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Which is?”

The man pointed at the colorful-looking one with the caramel swirls, the one you have been eyeing all week – but didn’t want to buy yet considering you were trying to cut on sweets and your expenses.

Wrinkling your nose, you turn to him and said, “Am I really that predictable?”

The way Mattie nudged your nose with the pad of his finger made you light on your feet. “You wouldn’t stop talking about it since last Tuesday after Professor Gillory’s class.”

“Oh come on.”

The way you pouted made the grown man giggle as he leaned closer towards you, seemingly daring to steal a kiss –

“Oh hello Miss _______,” a voice behind the counter suddenly piped up, causing Mattie to suddenly jump away from you as a pretty little girl wearing an orange apron straightened herself up, after fixing a batch of blue-colored bubble-gum flavored cupcake batch on the lower compartment of the display case. You kind of recognize her as one of these undergrads who have been introduced to you before who knew a resource person that you needed for your final report in Creative Writing last semester. Smiling as her name finally registered in your mind, you flash her a bright smile. “Hello Sarah!”

“Glad to see you here in the Cupcake House, Miss!” Sarah exclaimed, grinning proudly.

“Hello to you too sir!” She also greeted Mattie as the man sheepishly gave her a grin, running a hand through his hair. “Willing to sample some of our bestsellers? The oreo-maple-red velvet combo and the choco-chip flavors are quickly becoming a favorite!”

For some reason, you exchanged knowing glances with Matthew who was already biting his lower lip, knowing what was exactly on your mind. You were about to speak when he held out a hand, saying, “You know what –“ He ignored the way you rolled your eyes. “I think I know exactly what she is planning to have –“

“Oh wait!” The honey-blonde girl exclaimed as she turned around and picked something from the table behind her. “I forgot that this particular cupcake was left for you, Miss _________,” she continued, before handing you this small box that had the Cupcake House logo. “It came from one of our suppliers, and they wanted me to hand over this particular one…”

You raise an eyebrow on the orange printed box in your hands.

“They said it was perfectly made for you,” Sarah grinned at you, as you felt your head getting a little bit lighter as the weight of the box began to make itself known to your little hands.

“Guess I don’t need to order one anymore…” you said quietly, ignoring the annoyed look on your friend’s face as he looked as if he wanted to grab the box from your hands and stomp on it, squishing the precious little cupcake. “Who is it from again?”

Sarah just smiled. “It’s from one of our special suppliers, Ma’am!” Without another word she turns to an agitated Mattie and asks, “How about you sir? What flavor would you like to order?”

Mattie probably took the time staring weirdly at you as you took your tiny little orange box over an unoccupied table for two, when he could have been choosing cupcakes for his order. “Yeah, I’ll take a Salted Caramel one…”

You have already sat down and were already opening the box, when a cross-looking floppy-haired man sat right across you, looking at the box accusingly as if it was a jealous lover.

Oh, if he only knew.

But however, as much as you were supposed to be disgusted by _this one particular_ cupcake, you found yourself opening it with much glee and excitement, only for a little yellow pastry to greet you with its crowning glory of cream placed on it’s surface, dotted and lined with little pieces of mango.

“What the hell is that?” your English-classmate-slash-secret-secret-lover exclaimed loudly, looking at it so peculiarly, the cupcake in your hands being so much different than the crusty caramel topped cupcake you were supposedly saving up for the entire week.

“Mango meringue topped on a cornbread cupcake,” you whisper, your eyes darting over to Sarah who was still smiling over the counter, as if she was waiting for you to eat the contents of the package just handed to you. “Excuse me Sarah,” you called out. “This seems to be an expensive delicacy; but are cupcakes of this flavor also available on display?”

Sarah shook her head. “I only got a small batch of those Mango Meringue Cupcakes today, Miss,” she exclaimed. “And one of them was reserved.” With that, she nodded at the package you just opened.

You felt a twitch coming from the edge of your lip.

You knew exactly who could make these kinds of perfect mango meringues.

Apparently as you turned to look at your seatmate, he was wearing this annoyed and irritated look on his face, and he shared the same sentiments for the cupcake. However, despite your typical reaction of pushing away pastries made by that _one friend of yours_ , you actually turn the small yellow-orange cupcake around in your hands, willing to have a bite of it, wondering how it tastes like…

You let the tiny yellow cupcake sit on your hand for a few more minutes, marveling at it. The way the meringue swirled with the cream, the way the dainty little chunks of mango sat on top of all of it, and the way it smelled so heavenly that it actually reminded you of home.

It’s as if this cupcake knew who you exactly were and what you truly craved.

You brought it close to your lips, about to take a bite in a sacred manner, as if you were cherishing the time you spent with that one special cupcake made for you –

When somebody suddenly snatched that prized mango meringue-topped pastry from your hand, and took a big bite.

“What the fuck Matthew –“

You looked at your classmate in horror, eating the frosting off _your_ cupcake, and biting a huge chunk off the cornbread, stuffing his face with _your pastry_. “Mmmm,” the English boy moaned through the yellow much in his mouth that was part of _your_ cupcake. “Not bad… Are those actual ripe mangoes? I’ve never had them that ripe before!  And damn they taste so sweet…”

“That was my cupcake, Matthew.” You said crossly, looking at him at disbelief, meringue dripping from the sides of his lips. You know that he meant this as some sort of a joke, and you would have found it cute with his mouth dripping with frosting. For some reason, at that exact moment, you felt livid.

And as you look at him, disbelievingly, you saw this giant child stuffing himself with a food that he stole from your plate. This immature side of him made your left eye twitch, wondering what devolved him from that dashing accomplished would-be actor into this jealous little boy who seemed to have hated the fact that you had a special cupcake and he didn’t.

And then you remember that he was a Drama king too.

“Now I don’t have anything to eat.”

The boy looked up at you, cheeks puffed out, as if he was caught red-handed with the cupcake in question. Lips pursed, his mouth still smeared with cream, he looked at you as you raised his eyebrows at him, hands out in complete disbelief as you questioned his brash actions with just your gestures. Quickly placing the cupcake that came from your precious box down; you watched in utter surprise as he pushes the plate where the salted-caramel frosted cupcake he ordered was sitting.

“Oh right right,” he mumbled through the pieces in his mouth as he offers the plate to you. “Sorry for eating your cuppie. Take mine –“

You stared blankly down at the cupcake that he just pushed in your direction, your eyes settling at the caramel bits and that beige-colored frosting. You remember how much you were raving about it and you felt jealous over some of your friends who already got to taste it.

But as you watched Mattie devoured that mango meringue cuppie that was said to be made just for you... As you watched him wolf it down his mouth like some deranged little kid who never tasted a cupcake before… You couldn’t help but frown as you swiped a bit of cream off the cupcake you had as a consolation, wondering why you suddenly preferred the other cupcake than this one you’ve been aching for the entire time ever since the Cupcake House opened up.

 

 

***

 

 

The cupcake incident was forgotten right away when you both moved from the Cupcake House to the enclosed garden at the back of the Economics Library. That bothersome feeling of Mattie being rude was quickly erased by a few literal tongue-in-cheek gestures, and a few minutes of rough dry humping on a hidden bench on a back foyer before you both had to get off each other when a passing guard went by, doing his rounds after hours.

But eventually you had to part, with small stolen kisses and a silent walk back to your flat, making sure that you only held hands once you knew that no one you both knew was watching… And still you sleep alone, with Matthew teasing you of a good night that you’re afraid you’ll never have. But of course, you’re always hopeful, as a tease will always be a tease, and two can play that game.

Once you were alone, robbed of kisses and still wanting, you remember that one cupcake deliberately stolen from you by a man you think you loved.

Then again, the next day would have been the best time for you to get a shot at that Mango Meringue Cupcake, if there was any left. You know that no one’s going to steal it from you since Matthew had a day-job at the Theatre, while you were left to wander the school halls by yourself (and occasionally with some friends of yours) as you meet up with a few group mates for a written report for your Latin Class. Also in your agenda was to meet up with that former roommate of yours in hopes that you’d get her to talk to the landowners to have you take up half of the rent again… But considering the problems you ran into when you were living there… Oh you can only hope.

About the cupcake though, you only had to sigh as you passed by the Cupcake House, remembering the fact that you just spent your budget for “fancy food” over that down payment for that _other_ flat you were hoping to get – only to be denied the last minute, after the landowners finding out that you’re a Grad Student who still has no regular job. Suddenly, that dream of getting a taste of that coveted Mango Meringue that you _didn’t even want in the first place_ was so far away… And you find yourself kicking your shoes on the pavement as you look away from the Cupcake House window, after watching Sara and a partner fix a new batch of cuppies in the display area, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to afford yourself such delights till the next pay quarter, when you finally get your salaries from your sidelines.

That was when you almost walked into the door of the Cupcake House that opened in your face, only for you to look up and take a huge gulp as you stare up at this handsome-looking fellow in a well-pressed waistcoat who was holding an empty paper bag, staring at you with those big, blue eyes that looked so surprised to see you.

“Hello darling,” his voice would have been as delightfully sweet as those caramel chunks on the cupcake you had the other day.

“Tom,” you cleared your throat, as you found yourself looking down at your old and faded red Chuck Taylors, as you ignored the giggling students that said goodbye to him as they exited the delicacy shop. The man turned to smile at them, only to turn back to you, still wearing that sweet grin. “Didn’t know you were a cupcake fan.”

His chuckling made something in you flutter and you didn’t want to even realize _why_.

“Always have been,” he said, squinting a bit. “You should know this – you have seen me hoarding sweets and baking ingredients before, don’t you remember sweetie?”

 _Sweetie_ , even the term sounded so awfully rich as it rolled off his tongue. Of course you remember. He’d have private baking tournaments… with Liz. And he’d often win, then he’d give away everything he made – and you would find yourself having a stock of brownies in your refrigerator.

And cupcakes.

Lots and lots of cupcakes… that you never got to taste because you were on this crash diet a few years before and your then boyfriend would end up eating it, as you’d give away the left overs to your officemates. But you do sample one of Tom’s delicacies once in a while… It just wasn’t that special since you used to have this six digit salary that could get you to buy crème brûleès and brandy snaps whenever you wanted…

Of course, you didn’t have a six digit salary anymore. And you felt like you’re living on scraps…

But Tom’s cupcakes? Tom’s sweets?

Now you realize that they’re the same quality as those expensive desserts you used to get from Oulieè’s just down the street from that previous company you were part of. And you fucking got them for free.

And you found yourself sighing when you realized that you let that one free expensive cupcake slip through your fingers the day before when your jealous secret boyfriend grabbed it out of your hands and stuffed it into his mouth –

“Right, right,” you fidget, trying to hide your exasperation over yourself, as Tom tilted his head while listening to you, unable to hide that adoring grin that was slowly spreading on his lips. “Cupcakes, right, they’re technically your specialty –“

“Well that’s really generous of you to say,” he spoke once again, momentarily waving at another group of giggling girls who passed him by, but never removing his eyes on you. You stand there uncomfortably, as you wondered if these undergrads who fawn over him ever thought why such a beloved professor would choose a classless, penniless, and poiseless beggar posing as a Grad Student for his girlfriend – “But it just so happened to be my favorite.” He crossed his arms and blinked at you, seemingly wanting to prolong the discussion as you nodded awkwardly at him, trying to avoid his gaze. “I do believe it’s your favorite as well, isn’t it _pumpkin_?”

Your eyes suddenly rose from your faded Chucks, as you stared at him with disbelief.

You haven’t heard that nickname for a long time.

And the last time you heard it was when it dropped from your ex’s mouth.

The truth is, your ex wasn’t the only one who called you pumpkin. This was in fact an old joke that had to do something with your ex watching that movie “Hitch” with you and the way your relationship developed and revolved around it became the butt of joke among your friends – and that included your previous lover, Liz, and Tom. The way “pumpkin” was used in the movie and how that certain ex used it as a terms of endearment became the reason for Tom and Liz to tease you repeatedly with the nickname, going lengths as to call you this nickname in public. And of course you never forgave them for it.

And despite everything that happened (you breaking up with that ex, Tom breaking up with his ex…), Tom never seemed to have forgotten that nickname.

You opened your mouth, compelled to answer yes, _yes oh yes you did love cupcakes the most since it’s what your mum would prepare for you whenever you got a high score on your exams as a little girl._ However, upon remembering the fact that he still called _you pumpkin_ , you couldn’t help but frown and raise an eyebrow at him, subtly reminding him that you wouldn’t let that one slip.

“What?” Tom started giggling, losing that poise as the firm (yet flirty) Drama and Humanities Professor everyone gushed about, as he literally switched from being the educator to the blushing school boy and you were his high school crush. In a sense, we all know there’s some truth in that.

“You didn’t just use the fucking name.”

“Yes,” he said proudly, uncrossing his hands, letting the paper bag dangle to his side. “Yes I did.”

“You fucking didn’t –“

“Well _pumpkin_ ,” he said, tilting his head again, winking at you, enjoying the spectacle of you trembling with annoyance in front of him. “Before we get any more profane, would you like to take this little argument over your name inside the shop?”

You roll your eyes and clutch at your hair, getting exasperated. “That is not my name and –“ you slowly turn to him, suddenly realizing the gesture. “And no, no, no I don’t want to take your time! I was meaning to go to the library and meet up with Penelope and the –“

Your blabbering suddenly slowed till you found your voice droning into a stop as you found his smile melting into a firm glance, with his shoulders slightly sagging. You really didn’t want to care, and honestly, you suddenly reminded yourself of the _roles_ you both were playing as you compose yourself and try to find your words to pull him out of that displayed misery he was showing.

“I mean,” you stammered. “Maybe next time –“

“It’s alright,” the smile returned, somewhat warming your heart as you found the need to panic disappearing. “I wasn’t meaning to stay anyway. I just delivered some supplies to Sara and…”

He bit his lip as he paused and looked at you. “Speaking of that, she told me that you didn’t get that special delivery made for you the other day.”

That completely gave it away.

Not the meringue, not the carefully wrapped box, nor the fact that he liked baking. But at that moment you gaped at him, you knew that he had to do with that little piece of cupcake the day before. And remembering your face full of awe and wonder, suddenly all that discomfort of knowing how this man can sexually turn you around with just the twist of his finger… you suddenly have these fluttery feelings that made you repeatedly shake your head in genuine reply, asking him not to bother himself any further.

“No, no, no,” you mutter sincerely, ignoring the way he pursed his lips at you, his cheeks slowly turning bright red at how adorable you looked.  “I know what you’re planning –“

“Oh, but darling –“

All your gestures and the pure panic that followed afterward was completely set aside when the man produced another orange box from the paper bag he was holding, contradicting your initial inference that it was empty. You felt your worlds become unintelligible as your voice began to drone out, upon looking up and finding the smile on his face, as he handed the box towards your shaking hands.

“You don’t have to,” you whined in a defeated tone as you look down on your arms and find the cupcake box nestled in your two hands, seconds skipping itself as you had no power to physically refuse the gesture the man just did for you.

“Oh, but I want to,” Tom said in a soft sigh, seemingly reveling in the subtle yet visible outburst of gratitude coming from you, as you stared back down at the identical orange box in your hands, the same you were holding the day before. You couldn’t resist taking a peek, only to find the same cupcake that was robbed from you by your classmate, with its mango pieces and yellowish-colored palatable cream.

“After all,” the Professor continued, completely overjoyed by the true display of affection you have given him without a doubt for the past months, as you looked down with childlike joy at the gift he has provided to you. “Such treats should be given, and not robbed off sweethearts just like you…”

You didn’t understand why, but that suddenly shot a pang through your chest.

You looked up at him and realized that the man truly cares. You remember the face he made in the auditorium upon finding you with Matthew, and you remember the fury that was clearly visible that went through him, concealed with grace and mockery as he slowly brought you towards the brink of ecstasy… He managed to turn his jealousy into something that fuelled your attraction to him, and that made you look at him in a whole new light, a positive light.

While your other best friend on the other hand let his jealousy consume him, rendering him into this little child, as he literally snatched the gift out of your hands and stuffed his mouth with it –

The entire intent was clear, and a realization formed in your head.

But you chose not to ponder on that new realization, and instead you moved on instinct considering the events that were currently happening at hand.

Next thing you knew, with no reservations or second thoughts about the situation that was happening in public; you leaned forward and placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder, as you tiptoed upwards and brought your face up close to his, almost reaching his lips…

You clearly weren’t thinking, and you acted on impulse.

But you were aware of the warmth that suddenly spread through his face and the vivid way his cheeks turned red when your lips managed to touch the surface of his left cheekbone…

And you find yourself standing on your feet, looking up at a man who gazed at you with parted lips, those long fingertips gently holding the cheek where you impulsively kissed him, his entire face slowly turning beet red.

The way he whispered your name in reply to your sweet actions sounded like a prayer, not to mention the shy smile that slowly spread on his face as he averted his eyes from yours; suddenly looking like a shy schoolboy compared to the fact that he is an accomplished professor…

And despite the gravity of what you’ve done and the way you would kick yourself afterwards once he had gone and you’ve come back to your senses; you still managed to smile up at him with all your gratefulness, like a happy child holding her Christmas present in her hands, beaming like the sun.

“ _Thank you Tom!_ ”

 

 

 

***

 

 

And you did kick yourself afterwards. Like two hours later.

Right after you were in that pure bliss of eating that rare mango meringue cupcake Thomas lovingly gave you. And after you realized that he would provide only a few batches and he’d always try to save a piece for you.

You kicked yourself again with the way your heart fluttered.

_You’re not supposed to fall for him remember?_ You keep telling yourself.

 

But by the time you were wrapping up your agenda for the day, you managed to finally get a hold of your former roommate who was leaving her last class for the day. And the information she had to give you just had to send you running back to the one place you weren’t really planning to go back to that night. But you just had to when the one thing you needed happened to be tucked in between those pages of the Shakespeare textbook that was yours for at least a month of two. Oh must I remind you that _it wasn’t yours?_

The owner of the book happened to be covered in flour and cream as he wore this modest brown and green apron over that neatly pressed dress shirt he was wearing earlier when you saw him, as he drew back sweat the moment he opened the door to his flat, finding you standing in front of his doorway, wearing that confused expression on your face.

“Hey,” you felt your gaze travel down the man you swore you wouldn’t look twice at… But you would admit that all the sex and the flirting was leaving you desensitized to the initial body shock this man would often give newbies in his class when he struts on the podium on the first day. Well most of the undergrads (and several grad program students you know) still receive an effect on this man, but you never expected that you’d ever experience it – until that day he kissed you out of context in his study. Ever since you memorized the way his naked chest heaves in the middle of sex or how his O-face looks after a few rounds with you; somehow, this man could easily stand in front of you naked – and the twitching that would appear on your face would be the product of actual arousal, and not the discomfort of seeing a man you secretly fancied for the first time.

But it was different to find him in this situation, although you completely know how he is fond of cooking and baking, a side he doesn’t often show to his colleagues or his students. He does bring some of his creations to meetings and last school day celebrations, but you have never really seen him in action – like now.

“I was gonna ask you if you found…” Your voice trailed off as you watched him walk back into the kitchen, as you saw his creative culinary mess decorating the space. You observed how he returned to his counter and continued to knead his dough onto a thin sheet of flour, with his own brow furrowed as he concentrated on his work, only to look up and smile at you as you stood in the doorway, still watching him.

“I mean,” you shake off that charming smile that caught you off your guard as you began to snoop around the familiar place where you are welcome to feel at home, ever since the first day he invited you over. “I know I borrowed your Chaucer Anthologies a few months ago,” you exclaimed as you shifted through that small library he has in his living room, looking for that thick red book that you lugged around with you during the previous semester. “I may have accidentally left something in it…”

Lifting the rolling pin from the board, he peeled off the flattened dough and smiled up at you. “Try the second to the highest shelf,” he suggested. “That’s where I usually put it.”

Lightly dusting your fingers on the various books that used to catch your eye when you were just a visitor and not a _very_ welcome guest in his house, you manage to spot the anthology you were looking for as you used two hands to pry it out of the stack of books. Searching the index and opening it at the start of the _Wife of Bath’s_ _Tale_ , you manage to pull out this yellowing three-page legal-size document that was slightly dwarfed by the encyclopedic thickness of the book.

This happened to be a copy of your signed contract with the landowners of your former flat, and amidst your clutter-mindedness and all the things that were happening in the previous semester, you completely forgot that you have left it as a bookmark in the Anthology. It is during times like these when you are thankful for the Contract you share with Thomas, or else you would have been too awkward to talk to each other, thus giving you no reason to retrieve hidden documents such as this… since you know you would be too cowardly to approach the man.

Blowing dust off it, you trap it under your left arm as you carried the book back to the high second shelf, before shaking the dust off your hands. By the time you have slipped the letter back into your messenger bag, you look up to find him finishing up with his work on the dough, laying it out on a round pan. For some reason, seeing him like this put him in a different light for you, discovering another side to the sexually passionate and kinky pseudo-lover you knew; and the lively, intelligible professor you encounter every day on campus.

You couldn’t help but approach him on the counter, as he began to lay in a mixture of red sauce and meat inside the lining of the dough, before masterfully covering it up, filling up the top, proceeding to cut off the corners that stuck out.

“You’ve got quite a handful there,” you chuckled as he clearly seemed to have straightened up when he realized that you were observing him, as he couldn’t hide the smile that flashed on his face. “And it’s just not a meal for one…” You say looking around as he put the pie inside the oven, pulling out a batch of baked treats as the aroma of the goodies wafted past your nose. You watch him pick up a piping bag as he filled it with pink cream, before placing it beside a similar-looking icing bag with white filling.

“Looks like the Prof’s got someone over for dinner!” you tease, crossing your arms, letting a smile cross your face as you survey the creative mess, trying to ignore that uncomfortable air that filled your chest, wondering where that came from.

He had probably started icing one crust and was about to start with another, when he looked up and chuckled. He must have noticed that he was also blushing since he mindlessly brushed his cheek with the back of his left hand, unknowingly smudging a bit of that pink cream on it. Curiously enough, it made him look even more adorable than embarrassing, having a bit of cream on his face.

“Who’s the lucky gal?” you joked as you went around the counter, eyeing the goodies.

“Ehehehehe,” Tom bit his lip as he finished icing the second pastry, chuckling under his breath. “Just you, really…”

As your smile slowly faded from your lips, you suddenly felt that heavy feeling in your chest lighten up… and take flight.

You uncross your arms and backed off a bit, now completely aware that the smile on the man’s face subsided as well, but he was looking at you intently, as if he was waiting for you to answer an unsaid question…

“Pardon?”

Tom blinked right at you, as he placed his frosting tools down, seemingly surprised with the gentle and polite manner you talked to him, compared to the previous instances when you would violently reject him and sometimes even humiliate him. In public.

Rubbing his chin, he parted his lips, only to close them again, as he watched you moving closer towards the counter. You stared up at him, completely ignoring the welcoming actions you were showing him, as you bit your lower lip and started gesturing, seemingly trying to get a hold of the situation –

“Let me get the straight,” you tried to pry the awkwardness out of the situation. “You meant –“

“I really do wish you could –“ He began to interrupt.

“—you were preparing this dinner for me?”

You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, but you couldn’t believe that he’s doing this for you as well. I mean, this wasn’t the first time he did it for you. There was that one instance with the laced dress and the chococlate soufflé, but you knew that had probably been planned as an apology for what happened in the study the day before. And you both knew that this dinner did not really end well. Yes, you had a few orgasms, but you walked out of that bedroom soaked up with guilt and your pseudo-lover emotionally crippled. But this time around…

“Well,” he started, seemingly tensing up, considering that you were starting to ask the _right_ questions. “You did text that you were coming over, and I was hoping that you’d –“

“What’s the occasion?” you suddenly piped up, looking him in the eye, watching him be reduced into this stammering school boy once more. And you had to admit that instead of being initially bothered by the way he wore his heart on his sleeve; you watched him as if he was this wonderful spectacle happening in front of you. This surely brought about even more stammers and nervousness with the man who seemed to be finally seeing right through you…

“Nothing! Nothing really,” he tried to hide his smile as he turned around, seemingly looking for something in the drawer behind him. “I just wanted to invite you to dinner, that’s all –“

You whined.

He turned around to find you surveying the kitchen’s mess, the delicious treats, and the dinner pie baking in the oven; only to run your hand exasperatedly through your hair. Bit by bit you find Thomas slowly sinking back to the shell he just recently crawled out of, bracing himself for the impending rejection that he was used to getting from you…

“It really seems like a lovely dinner,” you muttered, flitting your eyes towards him, playing the flirting game a bit. “But… I really got to get going. I’ve… I’ve got my own dinner to attend to.”

Tom cocked his head to the side.

Seeing the way you avoided his gaze as you swiped a bit of icing over one of the mini-cakes he was frosting, he made sure to catch your eyes with one steel look, before swiping off a bit of cream off the piping bag himself, licking it off his fingers without taking his eyes off you.

“I see,” he said, his tone changing slightly. “I do hope that young man would take you home tonight and keep you safe –“

You look up at him again and shake your head, frowning a bit.

“Not,” you wince at him, trying so hard not to roll your eyes at the blatant display of jealousy he was clearly trying to hide. What is he to do anyway, all he has is a contract – he didn’t have your heart. “Not that.”

The way his eyes softened as he cocked his head to the side once more made your insides burn with some sort of need.

Sighing, you began to wave your hand around, explaining the side of your story. “Do you remember Vivian?” you spoke. “My former roommate?” Without waiting for him to nod, you say, “Well, after telling me that our old room cleared up after she had to kick her overbearing boyfriend out, Vivian told me that the landowners were willing to speak to me again.”

“Oh?” The smile on Tom’s face reflected the hope you were feeling about the situation.

You nod. “That’s why I was looking for the contract that I left in your Chaucer Anthology,” you exclaim, patting your bag. “I could use this as leverage considering that I am originally contracted to live in that dorm for at least two to three years, till I moved out without any formal statement and Vivian got her ex in as part of a spoken agreement with Mrs. Fitz.” Suddenly, your knowledge with contracts and the like was helping you out. Thanks to Thomas.

The man who was almost done icing his baked sweets batch smiled up at you as he listened to you while working. “Seems like you’ve got everything figured out,” he said in a gleeful tone.

Your hopeful smile began to melt. “Well,” you started, now dropping your gaze on the floor. “Keeping up with the rent was easy when I was still at the publishing office…” You shrug once more, trying to ease the anxiety you were feeling concerning the upcoming dinner. “Now I’ve got that part-time job editing scripts and those side projects that pop up now and then,” You blew a gust of air that made your fringes bounce as you continued speaking. “We’ll see if Mr. and Mrs. Fitz would be alright with that…”

The way your voice droned out made Tom furrow his eyebrows as he placed his frosting tools aside once more and placed both of his dirtied hands on the marble counter.

“Darling,” he whispered, his eyes lingering on the counter for a while before looking up at you. “I hope you don’t mind me asking this but,” he bites his lower lip. “Are you sure you’ve got this all covered?”

It was time for you to cock your head in reply, as you raised your eyes up to meet his, seemingly questioning his statement.

“Financially,” he added. “I mean.”

You open your mouth to answer, repeating the fact that you had two side jobs… but then again you realized that they’re what they are – part-times. That’s all you have. And considering your financial rut and the fact that you’re locked in another intimate contract with this Professor-friend of yours, suddenly made you realize why he would suddenly ask this question. You tried to lie, but when your eyes met up to meet those intuitive blue ones, that’s when you realize that Tom knows you too much and would definitely see right through you. Every single time.

“Well…” you mutter bitterly, scratching the back of your head. “Not yet…” You watch as Tom straightened up, completely forgetting about his own dinner service, as he looked at you with enough worry in his eyes to remind you of your mother.

“But that’s why I need to finish my Masters,” you quickly said in a round-about, raising a finger to point at him, trying to ease the tension. “Hopefully, I can get a new job with a higher salary, then I’d be able to live the same way I used to…” You find yourself sighing, hating yourself for the repercussions of your own actions that caused you to lose your old job… After all, your life as a Masterals Student wasn’t being kind to you. But then again, you remind yourself that the past is the past, and you only have the power to control the present.

The man standing in front of you on the other hand, seemed to have absent-mindedly rubbed his cheek again, as he picked up his icing tools and tossed them in the sink along with the used dishes.

“You do know the offer still stands,” Tom whispered, blue eyes flitting to your direction for a while. “My home is always welcome for you to stay in, and you could bunk with me for as long as you like.”

You couldn’t explain why but those words that just left his mouth caused your insides to flutter. Again.

“And I did tell you that we can include that agreement in the contract,” he exclaimed as he tottered about the oven, watching his pie baking. “If you’re so worried about paying the rent…”

You sighed and turned to look at the man who had too much to offer you. You remember the initial agreement about the flat, but you chose not to avail of it. At least regularly. You did prefer being there a times because it was closer to the campus and you had some… contract duties to fulfill. But as much as you could, you tried not to overstay your welcome… even if you knew there was no limit to that. You could see it in the man’s eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, slowly finding the courage to flash him a sweet smile. Once again you felt butterflies in your stomach stir as he turned around and slowly began to return the gesture. “I really appreciate it, but I don’t really want to be a burden…”

The smile on his face began to disappear once more. “It’s alright,” he said in a resigned tone, not wanting to argue. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you repeated in a heartfelt manner. “Really, I am truly grateful.”

He smiled back at you, but it lacked the same brightness and shine as it originally had when you first expressed your gratefulness.

You stood in that space of awkward silence for a few moments, with the roar of the oven filling in the gap.

“I better get going,” you mutter, finding the courage to snap out of his stare.

“Wait,” Tom exclaimed, going around the counter, till you found him standing right in front of you. “Maybe you want to bring Mr. and Mrs. Fitz something? I did make an extra batch of mini-cakes, and I’d just probably give that away…”

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to think loudly as you wondered why the man would make more than what he could eat. You knew that he had a lot of friends and his cooking produced a lot of patrons, but then again there were days when you would find him stocking up on ingredients and stuffing his refrigerators with sweets that only went to charity…

“Why make too many?” You couldn’t hide the sarcasm in your voice.

The man gritted his teeth, winced and then smiled adorably, shrugging. “Stress,” He could only utter one word.

Suddenly, you remember what Liz would tell you whenever she and Tom had a fight – she’d always get a cupcake or a brownie as a form of apology. Not to mention that there was this sea of sweets being circulated from his department that same week he and Liz broke up… that very same week when you visited his study to ask for help, only to get a kiss in return.

You then turned to look at him, worry flashing in your eyes, as you had to bite your tongue on asking him if he’s alright.

“I think it would be a bit too much for me if I’d try to woo them with food too,” you exclaim, unable to stop yourself from touching his arm. If you only knew about the goosebumps that formed from his skin up to the nape of his neck when your fingers touched him… But you were too busy with your narrative and your excuses to even notice it. “It seems as if I’m trying too hard. And of course,” you look up at him. “I don’t want to trouble you any further... as you’ve already done so much for me.”

The man paused for a while, seemingly scanning your face and assessing your sincerity, before finally giving in and nodding. “Alright, alright…”

He then turned to the counter once more as you watched him pull out a foil wrap from one of the drawers in his kitchen, preparing to put them over this other mix he seemed to be making for the night. You took a peek at it earlier and realized that it was supposed to be a soufflé. “Guess I’ll just save these for another time…” he didn’t turn to look at you, but you could sense the resignation in his voice. “When you’re around.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached him and touched the small of his back.

The man then turned to you, surprised with your sudden closeness, your gentle touch… as he realized how close you were standing next to him, in the comfort of his little kitchen. Even if that kitchen held such weird memories for you, not to mention that kitchen counter… Suddenly, you were feeling a new kind of comfort as you stood there, next to him.

“Thank you,” you whispered for the nth time as you once again stood on tiptoes, your hands brushing against his arm as you brought your lips up to kiss his cheek once more.

You felt his eyes flutter shut when the warmth brushed against his cheek, and this time there wasn’t any hesitations coming from you. That day you felt very generous. In fact, you have been feeling very generous whenever you see him… ever since that incident in the auditorium. Just when you thought that kind of kinky intimacy would pry both of you apart; it just happened to bring you closer to him.

As you withdrew your face from his, you find his eyes still closed, but with those lips parted. It was as if he has sunk into a trance where everything must have been bizarrely upside down, in a world where you actually cared for him and he had your love…

But then again you genuinely do care for him. You just weren’t fully aware of it yet. Or you didn’t want to be aware of it.

There was some sort of tranquility that rested on his face, as he slowly began to open his eyes, focusing those blue eyes on you. You were about to stop yourself from saying out loud on how breathtaking he looked, when you suddenly bit your lip and a certain taste flooded your mouth –

“Hmm,” you wondered out loud, wondering why the taste of strawberries was suddenly on your tongue.

Surprising him, you turned to look up at his face, only to realize that he had a bit of the syrup and cream he was using for the frosting earlier, smudged on the cheek you just caressed with your lips. He was about to ask you what was wrong, when he was completely taken off guard when you suddenly went on your tippy toes again to bring your face to his cheek – only to lick it this time.

Tom could clearly feel his blood surge through his veins, as he felt your wet tongue scrape against his face.

You on the other hand, started pondering on the taste that invaded your mouth once again, as you mutter, “Oh God – is that strawberry?”

There was a glint of lust in the man’s eyes as he nodded at you, now trying to hide the fact he wanted to smear the same flavor all over your mouth in preparation of devouring them. In fact, the man may be contemplating repeating the same gesture of how he took you for the first time – on the kitchen counter.

“It’s Strawberry Cheesecake, pumpkin,” he said in that hushed tone that just drove a shiver down your spine, and this time you weren’t a fool enough to try and hide it.

“Damn,” you said with a bit of a gasp as you found yourself gripping his arm, the heat from your hands surging right to his crotch. “I think I may have to raincheck on that dinner of yours…”

Clearly overjoyed with your flirting and willing to return the favor, the man had to stop himself from smearing your clothes and your hair with the cream on his hands, as he took a deep breath and said, “Set the date, my dear.”

You smile back at him, as you nodded in reply.

“I definitely will.”

 

 

***

 

 

How you managed to escape that flat without getting your clothes ripped and have your body pushed on the kitchen counter with your bare chest smeared with cream and syrup was an enigma. But you barely did leave without getting eyefucked till your panties were ruined, and you were quite sure that you both had to stop yourselves from actually having a proper snog just so the events of the night could continue.

But whatever it is that Tom made you feel at that exact moment, whether it was a crush or a fever; it brought a spring in your step and a smile on your face. In fact, you considered yourself a new woman with these feelings. Your old self would have kicked you repeatedly with the fact that you have openly started flirting with the Professor, when you kept telling yourself that this is so wrong.

You were in the middle of your happy little fluttery thoughts as you made your way back to your old flat, when your phone started buzzing.

 

_Hello Poppet. I missed you today. Wondering if you’d like to meet tomorrow? Have a little dinner perhaps? - M_

 

Your megawatt grin would have stolen all the power in the city at that exact moment.

Without hesitating, you sent him your reply.

 

_Of course! :) Just set the time, I’ll be there. <3_


	15. A Hint of Tonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One really bad night, you found yourself standing in front of the Professor's door. Little does he know what you have planned in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to [Wolfie](http://iamthebadwolf85.tumblr.com) for helping me edit this chapter (and the previous one too)!

_“B-But why?_ ”

_You clutch that glass filled with vodka and tonic as the words he dropped completely rendered the gesture he was making completely useless. He was threading his long fingers in your hair, gazing at you with the depth of his eyes, filling you with all that beautiful green as your own vision suddenly started to turn gray and black as the gravity of his words sank in your head._

_“I can’t…” Matthew sighed, as he painfully retracted his hand from your head and placed it on the bar counter. And just after pushing you down on a stool, pulling at your hair, as he furiously devoured your mouth, the man chooses to stop in amidst his sexually frustrating ministrations and to tell you that…_

_“I can’t make love to you. Not tonight.”_

_Thus, prompting you to ask the question._

_“Poppet,” the man exclaimed as he gritted his teeth, painfully looking at your stunning visage, considering that this was your first formal date and the fact that you wore that beautiful black dress you’ve kept in your closet for so long. That the last time you saw it was during that dinner with your last boyfriend… and yet, you do not understand how the man you have the hots for have the guts to say “no” to this simple thing you’re asking for._

_“I cannot kiss you, take you, make you mine… when you’re not really mine at all.”_

_You bit your lip, feeling even more bitterness mixing with the liquor you were drinking._

_“Haven’t I told you that I wanted you?” You asked. “Haven’t I told you that you have captured me? Haven’t I told you enough that…” You sighed ruefully. “Mattie, you already know how I feel about you… How can you even say that I’m not yours?”_

_The man ran a hand through his one-sided fringe that fell upon his forehead as he cast his eyes on his big, flat expensive shoes, only to lift them up and gaze bitterly at you, eyeing those lips he was dying to kiss once more, and was obviously holding back for certain reasons. Yet he brushes his thumb across your lower lip so lovingly and calls you ‘Poppet’ as he used to…_

_He’d call you ‘Poppet’ whenever he would see you out in the corridor after a class, whenever you would deliver a great argument with a professor’s question and he’d give you a high five. And whenever he would ask you if you’re going home once the day has ended…_

_Such little things like that stay with you. Such little things remind you of a love you wanted but could never have._

_Yet the moment he mentioned it again, you felt the feelings that were intertwined with it slowly dissipate as his reasons for holding back on you slip past his teeth and roll off his tongue, piercing you like a bloody pin that shatters your heart into a million pieces…_

_“I can’t when I know you go home to **him** every night.”_

 

 

You grit your teeth, your breath hitching with your sobs as your colleague’s words burned in your brain.

Clutching your heels in one hand as you try to wipe your tears away, you barely see through the haze in your head and your tears as you bounded towards RM 211. You couldn’t believe how fast you ran and it just broke you that he didn’t have the guts to follow you. But then again how could he, when he knows the truth – that you wouldn’t be coming home to him that night.

This broke your heart, but you weren’t really in a position to argue with him. Taken aback by the pain, his sincerity, and the way your expectation crashed through the second floor and right into the lobby of the building you have been dining in, you just had enough decency to cut the night short, excuse yourself, and meander aimlessly through the city while you were trying to clear your head. But amidst your tears, your confusion, and that probable hope that your secret boyfriend would still be waiting for you – the rain suddenly fell and washed away all your possible attempts of returning and mending the night.

But there was one thing you need, and there was also that one thing you wish to give. But the one person whom you want to give it to, the one person whom you believe can give it to you… _just outright refused it._

You take a deep breath as you look up at the golden plate that reads **2 1 1**. “At least there’s that _one other person who won’t resist what I can offer_ …”

You hastily rapped your knuckles on the door, remembering you left behind those keys he gave you early on, telling you that you could come to his flat anytime, even when he’s not around. Why else would you need them? You may appear engaged, but you didn’t want your trust sullied by your expanded access to the flat. At least you didn’t want to think of it that way. Or at least you didn’t want to give him a reason to think that you were taking this _engagement_ thing too seriously…

You tried to make yourself presentable as you wiped away the snot and tears and the ruffled look that made you look like a kitten thrown out in the rain. There was also the matter of the  alcohol reeking from your breath, but you barely even noticed it. However, it was all too late and you cannot erase the way your eyes swelled when the door suddenly opened, revealing your Professor-friend, looking at you as if a mother (who had the perfect reasons not to discuss it) just left her only child on his doorstep.

“Pumpkin…” The words that escaped Tom’s lips were enough to describe the warmth you were craving from the man you considered to be your real lover. (Well, he would have been official if you went through with your plan and told Matthew to wait until the contract is ready to end, but then again you knew that man couldn’t wait that long. And who knew when your contract could end? If the School Board knew you were faking, such consequences will await you and Tom, and in the end you wouldn’t even get your scholarship.) The way he looked at you and the inviting heat of his flat just acted like the perfect fireplace for you, as if you escaped a snow storm. “You’re soaking wet…”

Whatever restraint that held you back from jumping him had you standing there frozen like a statue, and you had to commend yourself for it. Amidst all your tears and all your crying, you find yourself agape at the man who looked at you as if you were a wet puppy that was staring up at a god who was currently dressed in that sexy wife-beater, a pair of loose jogging pants, with his shoulders covered with his favorite black cardigan.

“What happened?” The man had the decency to ask you what was wrong the first time around, and you find yourself unable to speak.

After all, how can you tell him you were only there for the sex?

Honestly, you wanted it rough just to wash away those painful feelings of the man you actually love. Or whatever it is you’re feeling for Mattie.

But then again, as you look up into the Professor’s eyes and see something more than worry, something even more than concern. Suddenly, you just didn’t have the courage or the guts to tell him that you just wanted to fuck his brains out. And honestly, you initially felt that he’d gladly comply to have you screw him till he can’t stand because you knew that he’s that kind of a perverted person (having drafted that sexually explicit version of the Contract and all), but at that exact moment as you watch his heart crack with how you’re standing there with your eyes swollen and drenched in rainfall…

“I—,” you started, trying to get past the way you choked on your sobs. “I seem to have run into the rain after dinner and…” You bite your lip. “The flat is too far for me to run home to at this rate…”

You look up at him, daring to make eye contact for the first time that night.

“May I stay here for a while?”

The man clearly understood the situation that was placed at his doorstep, but he clearly had no idea of what was going on in your mind. But between the apprehension and pity that you could see in those eyes, there was also this appraisal, as if he was trying to imagine what kind of unholy pain your _other_ lover may have caused you… thus leaving you like a wet rag right in front of his doorstep.

You were actually trying to think past that haziness that was clouding your brain, maybe think of a more suitable follow-up explanation to why you’re standing there with your drenched pretty little black dress when –

“Don’t just stand there, love,” he exclaimed, a small smile forming on his face.

Without another word, he quickly wedged his door open as he beckoned for you to come inside as he hurried to his back room to fetch some towels.

There was something on his face, something in those eyes that somewhat broke you as you trudged through his living room, leaving the door behind you open as you hastily left a puddle leading from the door to the living room. Whatever you saw in his expression just made your heart melt in a completely different manner even more, as you broke into sobs, knowing that Matthew would never look at you the same way as that… without putting so many things from the pan and into the fire.

And yet when Tom returned to place a towel around your shoulders as he quickly moved to close the door and dry up the trail of wet rain that followed your feet, you couldn’t help but think about this nagging voice at the back of your head saying that you will forever regret it if you even dare abandon this contract and a disgruntled (and possibly heartbroken) Thomas in it’s midst…

“Sit,” the man exclaimed, gently harrying you over to his couch. “Make yourself comfortable…”

You look miserably at that leather couch he’d been so proud of acquiring after getting his promotion as a regular faculty, almost a year and a half ago. You even remember Lis kissing him on the cheek, but that’s one faint memory. What you have right now are confused feelings torn between your sexual and emotional frustration over a floppy-one-sided-haired guy, and this literary hunk that was walking around only dressed in his most comfortable clothes, busying himself about the room around you.

“But I’ll get the couch wet…”

“Who cares about the couch,” Tom mumbled under his breath as he laid out a towel folded in half over one part of the leather seat. “But if this will convince you to sit down, then I’ll leave it here.” He then stands up and tugs on your hand, his eyebrows furrowing at the way your eyes were swollen. “Come on, sweetheart, make yourself comfortable.”

You take a big sniffle before wrapping that towel around you and finally sit down the couch where the towels were laid out.

During the entire time, Tom glances at you with such worried eyes, like he is torn between wrapping you into a long, warm hug (that you secretly craved at that moment) or possibly comforting you in a manner that involved grabbing you by your slick, wet hair and smothering your mouth with his as he inserted his tongue inside of it…

Then again, the only thing he could utter at that exact moment (despite everything unread in between – his genuine worry laced with a bit of desire and that growing fire inside of you that needed to be satiated) is, “I know the best thing to make you feel better…”

For a moment, you raise your eyes up at him, wondering if he somewhat read what was going on in your mind. You were heartbroken, you were frisky, and you seriously needed a cock in you – but you remember just being too wankered and frustrated by the rain to even start implying that you wanted to be fucked. But then again, isn’t that what he was for at that very moment? Or at least that’s what the Contract was all about… your scholarship and his sexual needs.

You didn’t know how much you were going to kick yourself in the future with that comment.

As you struggled with trying to figure out if you gave yourself away too much, he paced around for a while, before removing his finger from those luscious lips and pointing them at you. “Would you like some tea?”

You raise your puffy red eyes at him and wonder how long it would take for you to gain that courage of what you wanted _healed_ that night.

“Yes, please.”

Without another word and wearing only a content smile on his face (having found a way to calm you down), the man retreated to the confines of his kitchen, quickly retrieving the remaining few cups of hot water stored in his thermos as he took out two pieces of his best china from an upper cupboard.

As you listened to the clinks and tinks of the spoon and the utensils, you sat there, eyes blood-shot, as you tried to remember what drove you back to Professor Hiddleston’s place in the first place. Suddenly, for some goddamn reason, a part of you swam back past all the crazy and the vodka tonics, as you momentarily came to your senses, questioning the reason why you are here. You remember that auburn-haired man with the disappointed expression on his face, not matching how dashing he looked like in a suit as he sat at the expensive bar counter just right in front of you… telling you that he can’t be yours and you can’t be his…

You almost had to choke back a sob, when your host was suddenly standing in front of you, a cup of sweet smelling tea in hand.

“Darling…” the way his voice faltered as he watched you control your emotions, tears completely filling up your eyes, just completely drove you to have control over yourself.

“Here,” he whispered, gently taking your hand and placing the cup in your grip. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

You nodded as you blew on the steam, unable to hide the way your tears just broke past the barrier, droplets rolling down your cheek as you felt the man take his seat just beside you, a cup in his own hands. You both sat in silence for a while as you waited for your drinks to cool, unable to express the gratitude that was filling up your heart, despite the fact that it was this man’s kindness and actions that is slowly driving the love of your life away…and you suddenly felt so shallow that you were driven back into Professor Hiddleston’s arms because of the one thing Mattie knew was corrupting you…

You started to cry again when a new realization began to form in your brain… _What if he’s pushing me away because this may be the one thing he couldn’t give me –_

You took a sip of your tea and then suddenly – you had to stop.

You had to stop thinking.

You had to stop crying.

Because all of a sudden, something completely surprising struck you…

Tear-stained and choking back a sob, you turned to look at the cup you were holding, completely puzzled by its contents. You turned to the Professor in the homely outfit and said, “This… This is my favorite brew…”

Tom smiled upon hearing you speak, removing his lips from his own cup as well.

“Scottish Breakfast, three cubes, a splotch of milk, and a teaspoon of honey,” he recited as if he was taking a recipe from memory. “If I can recall it correctly, then that happens to be your _favorite_.”

Your pupils dilated as you looked at him with that tear stained face, your mouth agape.

“H-How?” you stuttered amidst your tears. “O-Only L-Lis would make that brew…” You didn’t understand or you tried not to as another different pang (different from the one your felt earlier with Matthew’s rejection) shot through your heart, having to mention his ex who happened to be your good friend. “It’s l-like our little secret and we never discussed it with you!”

The chuckle that escaped his lips could only send a mighty shiver down your spine, and it wasn’t due to the cold or the fact that you’re still drenched with rain water.

He turned to look at you, those cornflower-blue eyes twinkling. “You thought I never paid attention?” he said, a bit of a chuckle left in his voice. “You thought I just sat there as I watched my then girlfriend preparing a cup for you whenever you would come whining about your useless boyfriend? Of course I did…why would I not? I knew it was the only thing that could calm you down…” He bit his lip as he turned his tea cup around the saucer he was holding. “Especially at such as times like this.”

You felt yourself gasp.

But you didn’t hear yourself.

What you heard was something else.

 

_Crash!_

 

Your sweet smelling tea spilled all over the floor with the cup upturned. You were lucky it was far from the carpet, and you would have been worried that it would stain the oak varnished floors of Tom’s flat. But you completely lost all your inhibitions with the words that flew out of his mouth (not to mention the copious amount of alcohol that has taken over your brain), as your hands flew right to grab at the thin fabric covering his chest… as you mercilessly pulled him close and crushed your tea-stained lips against his.

That was when you heard his cup crash on the floor as well.

It was as if the man was just waiting for you to spring into action, give him the consent, and then allow himself to devour you. As your nails dug into the thin fabric of his inner shirt, you felt him breathe into the kiss, as he slipped his hands behind your head, threading those long fingers in your wet and dripping locks. You tilted your head in accordance to how his mouth moved against yours, as you can feel his breath against your face, and the way he buried his nose against your cheek as he tried to take in more of your hungry lips…

It was fiery and it was intense.

So intense you found yourself completely lost in the haze and Thomas’s lips, suddenly realizing how soft and warm they were, especially after a cold rainy night. For a moment, all the cold in your body had gone out and all you need was this man’s lips on your skin. And boy, you’ve never ever seen it this way – the intimacy, the need, the burning wanton desire soaring from your lips as you explored every crevice of his partially closed mouth…

It was exhilarating.

Part of you only thought about what you couldn’t get from Matthew, is the one you’re currently having from Thomas. Sweet caresses, such as that hand running down your head only to stroke the nape of your neck. Strong and fiery passion, that you can feel through the way he tilted your head and ate up your mouth, as you can feel him furrow his brow, relishing the entire ordeal. You can feel that he is completely triumphant for having you make the first move, and you could feel your mouth burn with that fact as you can feel him smile through the kiss, as he lightly parted your lip with his tongue, gaining a better access to your mouth.

But the moment you began to wrap your lips upon that naughty tongue, you found yourself moving from your spot, straddling him with both of your legs. You didn’t expect him gently brushing his finger against your wet cheek, as he suddenly pried you away from his mouth with a loud, slick pop.

Your lips involuntarily chase his for a few moments, before you had to pull yourself back as you opened your eyes and questioningly shot him those puppy dog eyes as some sort of retaliation.

The man definitely had lust in his eyes, and this desire you cannot fathom… and it didn’t help at all when he started licking his lips, seemingly appraising your taste and how your own lips met his earlier. And much to your chagrin, you had to sit on his lap impatiently as Tom tried to get his head around things, holding you at a safe distance, as he unwittingly tortured you by running his tongue slowly on the contour of his upper lip –

“Honey,” he then spoke, his eyes not once parting from yours. “Is that liquor which I taste from your mouth –”

You back away from him this time, voluntarily leaving his lap as you couldn’t hide the shock or the displeasure from your face. “Maybe I had a drink earlier after dinner,” you mused out loud, trying to avoid that apprehensive blue-eyed glare that was plastered on your face. “Maybe two…”

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Make that five,” you winced, trying to remember how many glasses you went through before you started becoming tipsy and you couldn’t control the words that were coming out of your mouth that eventually led to that discussion between you, Mattie, and the Contract.

The silence from the man sitting beside you was seemingly indefinite at first, and the lack of response from Tom made you feel worried all of a sudden… But then the moment he clucked his tongue and stood up, picking both of the fallen teacups on the floor, you knew that you _had another one slip through your fingers_. And you just couldn’t believe that this _one_ actually _did._

“I can’t –“ he started, shaking his head.

You were starting to become cross, and the fact that alcohol had a say in didn’t help with your disposition. “Can’t do what?!” you said in an annoyed tone.

The man turned around, looking visually stunning, considered that his cheeks were flushed (after all, you were snogging him earlier), and those lips still slightly swollen after being sucked and nipped at by your own… But as he stood away from you, shaking his head, you could only feel your resolve slip from your chest and crash into a million pieces on the floor.

“I can’t do this,” Tom said clearly. “Not while you’re drunk.”

And that was when your lips slowly formed this thin line that clearly took over your mood that night.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

You find yourself glaring at the ceiling two hours later.

You somewhat find your head in the middle of that sexual haze (and emotional pain) that had been intensified by that snog you initiated with the Professor, and you even had the decency of mind to be guilty as to attempt and clean up the mess you both made on the floor with the tea. But even before you can say “paper towels”, the man quickly stood in your way and offered you the bathroom – as you can see him straining hard not to look or touch you.

As much as you were offended by this, you barely noticed through your tipsiness how the man gritted his teeth as he still remained kind and gentle to you, suggesting that you stay the night until you feel much better, and offering you the guestroom as a place to sleep. You scowl at the fact that he’d rather have you sleep in the guestroom rather than take advantage of the situation and have you sleep in his, muttering that this might be some sort of revenge for your endeavors with Mr. I’m-Too-Scared-To-Have-Sex that were made behind his back. And yet you fail to notice how the man was straining himself with his actions, trying to be a real gentleman, as he believes that placing you at an arms’ length that night is not only his attempt to protect you from his desires, but from your impulsiveness as well. Little does he know you know what you want: you want to get fucked, and you want _him_ to fuck _you_. After all, he has done it several times before -- sometimes even roughly getting that _yes_ out of your mouth and your body… Why wouldn’t he dare do what he is called to do now?

Still, you find it the other way around with you wanting, and the Professor refusing to give.

It was bizarre.

Providing you with a loose shirt you can wear over yourself (since of course, you didn’t appear prepared on this little overnight trip), you managed to take a quick shower in that bathroom you knew so well.  You managed to dry out your little black dress and slip back into the expensive black lingerie set (that you laid out in front of the guest room heater) you’ve been saving for that one date when you hoped that Matthew would crack…

It’s almost been thirty minutes after your bath as you stared at the blower you left a few months ago (when you were still frequenting Tom’s flat during the start of the contract) in your Professor-friend’s bathroom (with Tom not even reminding you to take it home or anything, clearly expecting you to stay), when the man himself knocked on your door and only dared to enter when he was convinced that you’re decent… to say goodnight.

You clearly weren’t happy with him and without your filters thanks to the copious amount of alcohol you had that night, you weren’t able to hide this feeling from him. What completely baffles you was the fact that the Professor couldn’t help but be kind, compared to his predatory sexual mode from when you both started with this agreement, even finding the time to tell you to go straight to sleep and not to forget to take a glass of water with the antacid before bed.

You look up at him, confused.

What is something you said?

What it something you did?

He used to be so eager…

He used to beg for it every night…

Until you had to conveniently use the safeword to get yourself out of his heated glare…

He used to be so sensual, begging for it…

Why stop now?

Is it Mattie?

You tear your eyes from him as that gentle smile that appeared on his face as he sweetly said “Good night”, mocking you and making you wonder if he truly has lost interest in you. And just because you were pissed?

You glare at that closed door where he stood a few minutes earlier, drowning your mouth with water even before you can say anything that you would regret – even if the person you wished to address was no longer in front of you, probably preparing for bed in his room.

You just seriously couldn’t believe that Tom wouldn’t touch you just because you were a little more intoxicated than usual. Gentleman? Bah.  Your thoughts of him weren’t as pure of how he thinks of you, and they weren’t so innocent or forgiving of him even at the start. And this is where you will pay dearly in the long run.

It had been thirty minutes since the man has left your room and you were still staring at the ceiling.

The antacid was helping and so was the way you had watered down during the past hour. But as you slowly got sober, the more your confusion swirled around your head. The more the questions hounded you, the louder the nagging voices keep screaming at you, and they’re all saying the same thing: _you need to have sex_.

And there’s this one clear voice and it belongs to this Shakespearean-trained Drama Professor from the school you’re going to, and he said these five clear words that rang through your head like a bell, shunning out all the other sounds:

 

 _You need to fuck me_.

 

Most of the days you wouldn’t listen to that voice since it was overshadowed by all the other nagging voices in your head telling you what to do: _get a new job, fix your scholarship, finish your masters, make your parents proud, stop making a fool of yourself…_ Tom’s voice was so small and insignificant in your brain, that you would only listen to that _certain_ voice of reason when the man in your mind is asking you _to pay attention, to strive harder, to aspire to be just like him – accomplished and disciplined, to be kinder…_

But now all you can hear are those five words.

And it’s making the insides of your cunt throb.

Gritting your teeth, you decide that probably watering this feeling down and then fluffing your pillow would send you right into sleep and make you forget about those nasty little whispers in your head. After all, there is nothing you can do now – Mr. Drama-Teacher-Fuck-Buddy-Perfect-Ass is probably asleep and you’ve got tons of explaining to do to Mattie on why you didn’t go home to your flat last night. But then again, as if he cared.

But just as you were reaching out for the glass – you realize that it was already empty.

Your last stand and your last hope for sanity were empty.

For a moment you felt as if that hazy disposition brought about by the remaining alcohol content in your body that began to cloud your brain, making you think that Tom probably gave you a useless antacid. Only for you to realize, that it was already lust clouding your judgment.

Without thinking twice, you got your feet out of bed.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Little did you know that Tom was also still awake the entire time you were, also staring at the ceiling.

Except for him, he still had his side lamp on, as if he wasn’t really prepared to go to bed yet. That temptation of standing up, opening his door, and going back to the guestroom where you slept kept hounding his head… and the temptation to take on the chance and ravage you was strong, not unlike what you thought.

But he had to restrain himself, he had to stop.

The more you clung on to him with your head floating in the clouds, the more he thought about the contract, and the more he thought about what you would say in the morning when you’ve got your head screwed on correctly. The mention of “rape” and “indecent” kept rattling in his ear, not to mention the fact that he already felt guilty enough during those two times he took you with a bit of hesitation on your part, making him believe that he had already sinned against you twice.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, the way you pressed your lips against his, and how much you kissed him with so much fervor; as the man began to wonder if it’s just the alcohol, or if the alcohol is making your actions act out the truth when your lips cannot even say them…

The man touched his lips as he was lost in thought, trying to preserve in his memory how you kissed them, kissed them without context, without hesitation, and with no second thoughts…

Just the thought and the possibility of you actually _liking_ him started to put his head on a tailspin, as he felt as if he himself had a shot of that liquor you were drinking…

The liquor that he tasted in your mouth…

 _Gods in heaven_ , Tom mused in his head as he parted his lips and ran his finger against the inside of his lip, remembering how you smothered the tip of your mouth against it, trying to get a better taste of him. He swore and he can remember how he can still almost taste you…

The man bit his lip. He felt his head starting to spin…

 _Yes_ , he thought. _I can live on that one memory for the meantime_. _Her lips willingly caressing my mouth, her body pressed against mine_ … Tom sighed, slowly drifting off into sleep _,_ unaware of how his other hand slowly travelled down his upper torso now just clad with the gray wife-beater (having put aside his cardigan), as he moved that large hand towards his pants, plotting to take a grab at that thickening bulge in between his legs –

“ _Naughty boy_ ,” he heard a voice, somewhat snapping him out of that hazed dream he was having… or was he just imagining things? “ _Touching yourself already?_ ”

He looked up, having stretched himself out on the bed, and saw this vision of you standing in front of his open door, dressed only in his loose shirt, seemingly wearing nothing underneath. He could definitely imprint in his head the expression you were wearing on your face at that exact moment – it was feral, it was hungry, and your lips were parted with a famished thirst that could rival a man lost in a desert who just have found an oasis.

Half of him just couldn’t believe that this is happening, the other half of him thought he was dreaming… until you moved and closed the door behind you.

The man parted his lips, completely entranced by your figure moving towards him…

“Darling…” he couldn’t stop the moan from escaping his mouth. “Am I –“ he said groggily. “Am I dreaming?”

You bit your lip seductively.

Here you were, in the Professor’s bedroom, standing in front of his bed, with the man completely laid out for you. You never expected that this would happen, your roles reversed. Tonight you were the predator and he was the willing prey. And judging by the way his mouth hung open, looking at you as if you were Aphrodite who have ascended from the heavens…

You knew you had the ball in your court.

Tonight, you were going to get what you want.

“ _Is this what you consider a dream,_ ” you say in this fluid voice that easily rolled off your tongue as you easily moved from the floor and right onto his bed, completely sensing the way he held his breath as you crawled right on top of him. You managed to lean down to position your face close to his, never losing the opportunity to lick his mouth and gently nudge the divot of his nose with the tip of your tongue, as you made your physical presence known to him with your body. “ _Professor?_ ”

The man couldn’t answer as you breathed against his slightly parted lips, causing you to lean down again to capture them with your mouth as you parted them with your tongue. You kept your eyes open enough to watch his eyes loll to the back of his head as you wrapped your mouth around his lower lips, suckling gently before biting down softly with your teeth… reminding him that he’s not dreaming.

With the heat emanating from your tongue and the pain from his lower lip, a shiver had to run down Tom’s body as he slowly snapped out from the fact that he wasn’t dreaming – and you were there in front of him, with nothing but his shirt on your body.

And you were seducing him.

“Darling –“

Something in him snapped. It seemed he was waking up from a dream as you suddenly felt his hands wrap around your waist, causing you to grit your teeth. You knew exactly where he’s going to bring this to once more and there was no way in hell that you’d allow him to stop you this time.

“You’re pissed –“ You found yourself struggling against his hold as you tangle your fingers in those blonde curly locks.

“I don’t think so –“

You managed to wriggle your way out of his grip as you roughly ran your hands down his shoulders, locking it on his wrists as you brought it up over his head. You didn’t know why but at that moment, against a man who was supposedly twice your size, you had some sort of power… Maybe it was the fact that you were already straddling his waist, or maybe he was exhausted after a long day of lectures, after having to deal with a delinquent graduate student who showed up on his doorstep, stereotypically heartbroken with the literal storm in her hair.

But you totally did not consider the fact that _you always had power over him_ – with the way you smiled, the way you moved, the way you spoke about those literary pieces you loved so much and how you would debate about Shakespeare being so far from the English language we are using right now… You always had power over him with the hopeless way he was attracted to you, that desperate way he wanted you. And you were using that power right now to render him speechless, in complete awe, dumbstruck and at your beck and call.

Pressing your crotch against him, using that pin-down technique you learned from martial arts when you were a little girl, you held his hands above his head, almost positioning it parallel to the bars on his headboard, as you breathed in the way he gasped and struggled against your hold.

With both your hands locked against his wrists, you suddenly found yourself diving in and smothering his lips with kisses, trying to find a sign, consent or permission, trying to convince him that what you were doing was right for both of you…

And much to your delight, the man returned the kiss with much fervor as he moved his head in the direction of your mouth, flicking his lip against the corner of your mouth as you moved your lips to take in all of him. You couldn’t see it but he furrowed his brow and breathed within every movement of his lip, showing how he really wanted this, how he was truly overjoyed of getting this from you; but still there was some sort of hesitation…

You released his mouth with a smack and found yourself glaring at the man who breathed in hard, wanting for more.

“Tell me,” you growled at him, now having the upper hand. “I thought you wanted this?”

There was desperation in your voice, rejection. The pain was there too, but he could definitely see it in your eyes – and he could feel his heart leap upon seeing that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t intoxicated anymore. And that was all he was afraid of.

“I want this,” Tom groaned. “I’ve always wanted this!”

He struggled against you, his hands locked tight against your grip suddenly making you realize that maybe the man wasn’t completely using his full strength on you. There was suddenly that voice in your brain that maybe Thomas was letting you win…

“I’ve always wanted this,” he cried out, his face etched with sorrow and desire. “I’ve always needed this from you…” He took a deep sigh, before you found those blue eyes in the dim light slowly moving up, piercing you with that seductive stare that used to turn your knees into jelly when you were unguarded. “But not like this. Not when you’re not yourself.”

You sneered. You brushed your crotch against that hardening bulge again, causing his hips to buck. You couldn’t help but smile as you slowly watched him lose control with the fact that you were sexually overpowering him. And with the way he shivered? Oh gods, you had an idea how much he wanted this.

“How can you be sure that I’m not myself?”

There was pain in the way you said it, and the earlier pain, caused by how he tore off the kiss and sent you to bathe and then to bed, was reflected on your face. For a moment Tom stopped struggling against you and you saw him see right through you… and you could see it in those eyes that he was seriously assessing whether or not you were still drunk or not.

But with how you talked and how you negotiated next, the man could only feel goosebumps roll over his bare skin, realizing that you definitely meant business.

"Contract states that _I_ am not to decline your sexual advances..." you whisper, your eyes still hidden by your fringes as you spoke close to his face, your lips still brushing against his mouth.

"Yes," he whispers back, lips parted, trying to stop himself from devouring those lips that you have been dangling from the distance of his mouth.

"The contract doesn't clearly state that I can’t make sexual advances and that _you_ are to resist my advances either, doesn't it?"

Tom gulped and realized that his throat is now parched dry.

The way he spoke next wasn’t made out of the hesitation or the wariness he had been making earlier when you pinned him down without consent, but it suddenly made you realize that this deep voice is reeking with lust and excitement.

“ _Yes_.”

You breathed deeply as you found yourself freeing his hands now somewhat affixed above his head, steady by his free will, and no longer forced by your hand. As if he was baring himself to you, asking for you to do as you will…

“Will you give me what I want, Professor?” you moaned, as your other hand travelled lower, tracing the contours of his muscled body, your delicate fingers resting on the hem of the very thin wife-beater.

There still seemed to be worry and apprehension left in those blue eyes as he glanced up at you.

“Is this what you truly want?” his voice seemed to plead.

You dared to look back at him, into those blue eyes you used to fear so much, scared that you’d reveal too much of your hidden feelings for him. But tonight you basically have given yourself away, and part of your head was saying you can blame it on the vodka in the long run… but then again the truth spoke to you and goaded you to fulfill what you want, and _get what you need_.

And at that exact moment, it was this beautiful man who was baring himself to you – giving you the reins for a change.

“Tonight yes,” you growl, licking your lips. “Tonight I want _you_.”

The man couldn’t stop himself from moaning, hearing the words escape your mouth.

You took this as the cue for you to smother his lips once more, this time letting the wetness of your mouth to coat his, as you slipped your tongue inside past those parted lips, tugging and sucking till you swore you were both completely out of breath.

As your mouth got lost against his, your hands went to work. You slowly pulled the fabric on his skin up, making sure that it didn’t get in the way your grinded your hips against his, the wetness within you thickening as you felt that throbbing girth just waiting to be freed from its confines. But first things first – you brought his wife-beater up his arms, as you pressed your still clothed body against the man’s naked skin, letting the thin film of sweat brought about his initial struggles to stain the white loose shirt you were wearing. Before the man could realize what you were doing, you managed to affix the crumple of fabric that was made up of his top to pool around his wrists, as you twisted it around your fingers, making a firm knot.

Tom gasped, realizing what he just put himself through.

The man looked up at you with those pleading, hazy blue eyes… as you replied with much mischief and naughtiness, confirming his thoughts, as you tied the bundled cloth that initially covered his muscled torso  to one of the bars that made up his headboard.

“Darling,” he gasped. “I didn’t know you liked this kind of – _Ohhhhh_.”

With your hands now free, having his movements limited with his powerful arms tied to his headboard, you then let your fingers wander down that sculpted body, making sure that you traced the contours that showcased the column of his neck, the dips of his collarbones, the curves of his pectorals… only for you to press the pad of your finger against one erect nipple.

Tom gritted his teeth as he tried to suppress a moan, especially when you realized how _happy_ this made him that you had to do the same to his other nipple.

The man hissed as you felt his body hum against you, as you watch him slowly become undone under you, closing his eyes as he reveled in the fact that you were in control, parting his lips as he raised his head and bared his neck, exposing himself to you…

That was when all your strategy faded as you let instinct and technique take over your raw senses, completely letting your body loose with what you wanted to do with his, your sensuality dancing to the song being emanated by his naked body.

Your hands quickly flew from his chest to clutch at his hair as you completely lost control at how your lips and your tongue worked against his mouth. Much to your pleasure, the Professor returned the gesture, tilting his head and pushing his face forward against yours as he suckled and struggled to get a taste of your mouth, as you passionately lost control with how you were stealing the air out of his lungs with that torrid kiss. Holding his head in place, you tug at those curls at the nape of his neck as your fingers were fastened against his scalp, holding his face still as you lapped up at his mouth, causing him to groan so erotically, the hum echoing in your throat.

You didn’t waste your time. Giving him space to breathe, you let your tongue and your mouth explore, claiming what you came for that night. You licked a stripe and suckled where you could as your lips travelled down that long column of his neck, the dips and curves of his clavicles, before running it over the slope of his pectorals and circling your tongue around an erect nipple. You felt his entire body stiffen as he let out this sharp gasp. His body shifted sharply against yours, as you didn’t waste the opportunity and look back at him with those lust-filled eyes, silently detailing to him what you wanted to do to him that night.

In reply, the man could only hold his breath with his lips awkwardly parted as he watched you drag your tongue to lick the grooves of his Adonis belt when your hands found themselves wrapped around that thick bulge that had been throbbing against the thin fabric of his gym shorts, rubbing against your moist sex during the entire time you were grinding it against him to tease him.

“O-o-oooh –“ Tom moaned sharply, his chest rising up and then falling down, as your name slipped past his mouth like a prayer. “P-Please, darling…”

He couldn’t even form coherent sentences as he watched you pull his pants down, letting that erect cock throb free of its confines, as you looked at it hungrily as if you have never swallowed a large prick before.

And to think about it, you had that down your throat a week ago, in the Auditorium. Never have you wanted it as much as you wanted your _other_ lover’s cock to choke you, but upon being reminded about your Professor-friend’s actual girth, you couldn’t help but let the saliva in your mouth pool on the sides of your lips, ready to do his bidding before you can even get started.

“Fuck – yes – please – oh – Heavens – fuck – take it – take all – OH DARLING!”

You didn’t take him in dry. You never planned to take him in dry that night at all.

With your frustration mounting in between your legs, your sexual needs deprived by a man you yearned to sexually conquer, you shut out all of that pain in your mind as you took your satisfaction somewhere else, somewhere you didn’t expect. And with Tom’s dedication and openness, you decide to forget your frustration over the contract and give back the sexual attentions he’d been giving you since day one…it was only right for you to comply. After all, he was awfully satisfying at his craft…

Letting your mind burn with lust, you felt sexier with the dirty thing you were planning to do, you opened your eyes only to find the educated man straining against his bonds, his eyes looking far down on what you were going to do. You licked your lips and loved the attention he was giving you, as you slowly let the saliva pool around your mouth again, foaming up your lips before you slowly dipped your head and began to soap up that erect thick cock with your spit.

The man let out this guttural groan as you watched him his eyes roll towards the back of his head, almost losing it as he watched your lips rise up and down on the side of his shaft.  And you had no shame about it, no hesitations at all as you lather up his cock with the foam from your mouth, foam as white as the waves of the ocean, wetting him up and whetting his appetite for you...just when you’re doing all the eating…

And as you pleasured him, you were somewhat also doing this for yourself.

You knew how hungry you were and you knew anytime now you’re going to need to seal the deal for that night. As much as you have already been wet hours earlier, even since Matthew had the decency to initially exchange spit with you…and considering Thomas’s thick girth, you knew you had to prep him up the best damn way you know. And there was just something so erotic about smothering a man’s cock with the lather from your spit…

And you saw exactly how much that affected him as well as you withdrew your mouth from his now-moist cock, with a line of saliva dangling from your mouth as it connected from the tip of your lips to the head of his prick…

“ _Hah_ –“ The man’s breathing was staggered as he dared to open his eyes from the haze, watching what you were about to do next. But all he caught a glimpse of were those eyes darknened with lust – as you opened your mouth wider and took him in without a warning.

The man cursed in another language – something you swore you could recognize – as his hips bucked so hard against your face, painting the back of your throat with precum as he shoved his cock deep inside your mouth.

Affixing your hands on both sides of his hips as you push him down, your mouth began to bob up and down that hardened shaft. The man then filled your ears with the most erotic moaning and groaning as he struggled against his wife-beater tied around his wrists, shifting and grinding his hips against your face.

You let your eyes roll up the back of your head as well, the moment getting you excited – having someone come undone in front of you, and the fact that you were _getting what you wanted_...

Pushing him down once more, you hook your left arm around his hips, making sure he doesn’t choke you in the process as you suckle and throat his throbbing cock, letting your drool cover and moisten him up even more, humming as you did so. And while you were at it, you felt your free hand slowly travel down your hips and in between your thighs.  You slowly parted your already dripping underwear so you could slip your fingers in between your moistened folds to prepare yourself for what is coming.

“Oh Lords –“

“S'il vous plait –“

“Ma chérie –“

“Oooooooooohhhhh –“

“Hah –“

Guttural groans filled Tom’s room as his deep and sexy voice bounced off the walls, accompanied by the slurping and choking sounds you have been making around his now swollen cock. Dripping with precum and your saliva, you pull out with a loud pop as you felt the man let out a strained sigh as he opened his eyes to watch you were doing. And you found yourself face to face with his prick at attention, begging to be fucked.

You licked the head once and let it bounce with your tongue, causing the man to wriggle his hips in reply, as you hungrily looked at him, teasing him of what was about to come. But with how he looked at you – a mix of longing, pleading, and 45% of a predatory stare daring you to do your worst – you  could see how he shivered as you licked this string of precum that was hanging on your lower lip.

“Darling,” he whimpered, seemingly pleading. “Y-You’re gonna make me come –“

Without a warning, you straightened up and moved towards him, assaulting his mouth again with your moist lips and your playful tongue, making sure he got a taste of how delicious he is as you felt his cock throb against your bare thigh. Not willing to let go of the moment, your hand wet with your juices was wrapped around his moist cock, stroking and gently pulling, as you felt him thicken further in your grip…

“Can you taste yourself,” you ask in a breathy voice as you parted your lips from his. “Professor?”

He gasped with the way you partially withdrew from his mouth, your lower lips still snug against his mouth. Hearing you address him with his title just sent a shiver through his body, making you wetter than you already are.

His breath touching your lips, he gasped. “Y-Yes –“

You felt his breath hitch as he watched you straighten up away from him, positioning your parted legs in between that cock standing at attention. Without removing your eyes from his, you slowly began to lift that borrowed shirt over your head revealing your body only clad with that expensive lingerie you wore earlier.  You reveled in the way the man held his breath, taking in that erotic beauty of your image as his cock clearly throbbed again against your bare thigh.

“You like what you see?” You said in a naughty childlike  voice, as you bit your lip.

Tom looked as if he was about to pass out from the arousal... and this was just the visual example.

“Y-Yes…”

You lick your lower lip, never taking your eyes away from his, as you remind yourself of how he tasted and how he completely found you desirable. With this thought, you began to pull your laced underwear aside, freeing your dripping cunt, as you slowly began to swivel your hips, seemingly teasing it above that swollen cock. Much to your delight, it throbbed against your thigh again.

“Do you want me to give this to you, Professor?”

Tom was too locked in the trance at the show you were giving him, your bra strap lopsided, revealing your shoulder, almost teasing a nipple. Your hands in between your thighs, almost stroking your folds as you hovered your cunt just a few inches above his cock. Never have you offered yourself like this to him. Never have you revealed your dominating side just like this. Never have you ever considered it till you were deprived – never till tonight.

The man could only gasp when you nudged your parted moist folds against the head of his cock, your hips jerking in accordance as you swiped your slit against his head.

“Please _Professor_ ,” you almost growled at the last word. “ _Tell me if you want this. Tell me if you want me –_ “

You felt goosebumps form on his exposed skin, as he held his breath, frozen, as you began to lower your body against his erect cock, repeatedly brushing your dripping folds against his thick head, coating it with your juices above the saliva and precum you teased out of it. And with every jerk of your hips you can see Tom slowly slipping, his body tensing up; those delicious muscles on his arms, chest and stomach rippling with every sexual movement you did with only the surface of your cunt brushing against his waiting cock.

The man swore as he bit his lip too hard as he opened his mouth and cried out, _“Yes!_ ”

You didn’t need to hear him say anything. You felt your eyes roll towards the back of your head as you clamped your hands on his waist, dipping your fingers against his Adonis belt, as you plunged your cunt and swallowed the length of his cock with one swift stroke.

“ _Aggghhh!_ ”

A cry was eased from the two of you as you found your body preliminarily shuddering, your insides adjusting to his thick girth as you felt the man wriggle against your weight before settling down… his breathing louder than anything else in the room.

You held him still for a moment as you closed your eyes, head bowed, feeling that thickness slide right into you, as you focus on what you were to do next. This time you were in control, not him as it always was the case. The power was in your hands, and he was a mannequin tied to your strings. You were the one about to lead the dance for a change. And you never felt so powerful.

You grit your teeth as you jerked your hips forward, forcing another gasp from the man underneath you.

There was a time when he might have been gentle, there was a time when he might have been crude. He had been all things with you when the contract started, but nonetheless this was all Thomas and not you. But at that exact moment you opened your eyes, clear with a new resolve, you found yourself looking down at him and that half-lidded expression with his lips parted as if he was completely surrendering to you, giving you all of him…

You knew you weren’t going to be gentle.

Not when you’re in need.

Not when you’re yearning.

Not when you’re aching with desire.

And you didn’t have the time, the sanity, or the patience to question why it was _Tom_ who was getting all of your attentions.

And you didn’t really care.

Not this time.

 

“ _Hngh!_ ”

 

Your movements were swift as you brought your feet and flattened your soles on the mattress. You were in a crouching position as you momentarily rose with his cock halfway in your cunt as you folded your knees beside his thighs – locking his hips into place. The man gasped as you fell forward, this time releasing your hands from his waist as you grab onto his hair, your face coming close to his as you showed him that feral expression painted on yours.

“ _Scream for me, Professor_.”

Your hands clutch hard onto the locks on either side of his neck as you force your hips down against his, fully swallowing that girth once more. A loud sucking pop locked your bodies into place, as you heard him cry out, watching those blue eyes dilate in the process.

“L-LORDS –“

You began to rock your hips hard and swift, almost violently, that your slick folds began to make these noisy sounds as you began to pound his crotch with yours. You can feel the din of the pleasure taking over your head as you slowly watch him close his eyes and open his mouth, as if he was trying to scream but without any sound coming out.

“Hah – hah – hah –“

You brought your waist down into a curve, swallowing his cock fully, before curving it back up, only to repeat the process again. Your body moved against him so fluidly, causing the bed to shake with only your staggered breathing and the man’s whimpering filling the air in accordance to the creaking of the furniture.

_Thrust._

_Thrust._

_Thrust._

_Thrust._

This time, you were the predator and he was the prey. And you feasted on him as if you never got to eat meat all your life. You watched him sink into an almost-catatonic state as pleasure flooded his body, his eyes blanking out as you fucked him ruthlessly into the mattress. And as you watch him lose control and become undone beneath you, you couldn’t stop watching as he began to speak in tongues, tongues you can almost understand, crying out your name in pleasure, you couldn’t stop watching this beauty unfolding and yielding right beneath you, and this kind of spectacle you did not expect from the Professor at all…

You couldn’t understand the beauty that was unfolding before you…

But you slowly began to succumb to the haze…

As you watched him struggle against you, his wrists straining against the headboard…

His face etched in ecstasy…

As he bit his lip and cried your name out repeatedly…

And what slowly drove you into madness was when he arched his back and exposed his neck to you once more…

You couldn’t hold back anymore as you gritted your teeth, dipped your head down, and bit at that soft, juicy flesh that was begging to be marked by your mouth...

“ _OH BABY YES!!!_ ”

You curse at yourself as you released his skin with a pop, wondering why you succumbed to that desire. But as your body continued to dance and grind against his that cock canting as it hit you all in the right places, you found yourself slowly sinking into that sexual haze as you own body began to lose its rhythm and all your thrusts became inconsistent and erratic.

Your hands loosening on his hair you found yourself lapping up on that reddening mark on the column of his neck as your body began to bounce against his, your thrusts losing momentum, as you squint your eyes with a whole new sexual flush slowly emanating from your thighs –

“OH GOD –“

You quickly silence him with your lips as you wantonly devoured his mouth, lapping and suckling on his lips and his tongue as if you couldn’t have more. You tried not to think of this as a romantic gesture. You were clearly playing on your own lust, taking your fill of him, trying to take as much as you can and get away with it before he would realize that you ran away with his heart. With your own flesh moving in response to the rough way you fucked him and how he shuddered against your body, slowly losing control, you weren’t able to hold back as you suckle too hard on his lower lip, biting down on it as you managed to draw a bit of blood.

“Ah!”

He cried out as you released his mouth with a pop, the man furrowing his eyebrows to suck on his own lips to alleviate the pain. You barely noticed how he opened his eyes blinded with sexual haze, shooting you a look mixed with pain and overwhelmed pleasure.

You ignore his cries and throw your head back and straighten up, as your moans mingled with his, your body still bouncing as you rode his.

You heard him make this sharp intake of breath as you vertically positioned yourself, perpendicular to his flat body, as you continued to ride him – harder this time around. The new position gave you free rein to ride his shaft harder as you brought your body closer to his, grinding his crotch hard as you placed on hand on his chest, almost digging your frantic nails into his skin, and the other slipping in between his thighs, as you didn’t let the opportunity slip to cup and massage his fleshy sacs as you bounced on his thick cock.

And as you feel him thicken, throb, and harden inside of you, you could only grit your teeth as the mixture of the pleasure you were feeling and those haunting moans escaping the man only drove you towards the brink. You watched him toss his head back, that hickey you marked on his neck glistening, as he began to shake his head from side to side with his eyes closed, clearly indicating that he was both holding back and ready to burst.

But you didn’t care. At that moment, Tom was merely relishing that sweet build-up before his own orgasm as you took advantage of his desire for you. You were devouring the sexual pleasure he was giving you like a lioness as you worked closer and closer to meet your own orgasm. Despite your slow intoxication with the pleasure you were drawing out from him, you forget your partner who was then slowly becoming aware of the orgasm about to claim you as you painstakingly withdraw your hands from his body in order for you to knead at your aching breasts.

 

“D-Darling –“ Tom moaned. “Y-You’re c –“

 

You could barely hear him as you spasmed all over his cock buried deep inside of you, your body sinking against his as you draw your hands around your torso to hug yourself, screaming to the heavens as you clenched hard against him. It was a shame you barely noticed how he opened his mouth and watched you with so much awe as you arched your back and reached your peak. You then slump over his naked body as you tried to catch your breath, too exhausted to notice how his hips bucked twice or thrice, with his cock still inside of you, as he burst at the seams, filling you up.

You circled your hips once or twice as he emptied himself within you, as you still tried to get a hold of yourself after your own orgasm, brushing and smothering your mouth on his bare skin…

His body eventually relaxed as he stopped tugging at his tied wrists, when you felt his chest rise and fall slowly, as if he was catching his breath. Trying to get out of that blanked-out headspace brought about your climax, you found yourself sprawled over his form, your head on his chest as you both caught your breath, unconsciously enjoying this small haven of intimacy you both created with one another.

_Hah…_

_Haaah…_

_Hah…_

You raised your head to look at him, the sexual afterglow still glazed over your eyes, as you found those blue eyes looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the universe with your head snug against his chest.

You didn’t understand what came over you, but you suddenly moved towards him, like there was a certain kind of chemistry drawing you to him. The man who was overwhelmed by his own climax was also in a daze as he watched you lower your head towards his, your lips parted. You suddenly felt his heart lurch in his chest, breathing staggered when he realized that you were coming in for a kiss, a real kiss out of your own volition. And you had no idea how much this slowly turned him into goo.

However, in the middle of it all, your eyes suddenly bulge out as you suddenly close your mouth with your cheeks puffing and your stomach seemingly turning itself inside out.

 

_HURK—_

 

The man could only winced as you pulled yourself off him without warning, separating your still connected bodies, and leapt off the bed.

You were covering your mouth as you wobbled on your feet, still clearly uneasy after that sexual tirade you went through. You quickly ran for the bathroom positioned in between Tom’s room and the guestroom, not even bothering to slam the door.

The man remained tied to his bed as he heard you hack and wheeze in the bathroom.

If you only knew how his eyebrows furrowed as he heard something slip in his bath and then followed by the sound of you groaning. The truth was you were hunched over the toilet post-coitus, vomiting up that expensive 5-star dinner as part of that miserable hangover that only hit you almost hours later, when the antacid could have worked it out for you if you weren’t that stubborn and slept off your sexual frustration.

But as your head spun while you’re on your knees just in front of the toilet, you completely forgot about the man who was worried in his bed, not to mention how you miscalculated the tightness of how you tied his wrists with his clothing. Also that fact that he may have been pretending to be tied up for your sexual pleasure...

Just when you felt your body shut down, your mind black out, you swore you almost fell face first into the toilet right into the mulch you have just vomited out, unable to notice how someone caught your head and carried you up from the cold bathroom floor before flushing the toilet with one free hand.

 

 

***

 

 

 

Never had your head hurt this much.

Well there was that one time after this birthday party of a friend back when you were in College, but your body didn’t feel as sore or exhausted by the time you woke up. As you slowly came to your senses, you found a warm ray of sunlight touching your exposed thigh, with your vision clearing up painfully as you assessed the situation – to get out of bed or to stay there till you sober up a little bit more. Sobering up means three to four hours of slipping in and out of consciousness… suddenly you realized that whatever you had planned for the day, you had to set it aside, especially when you realized it was already noon.

That’s when you quickly jumped out of bed realizing you weren’t in your flat, or your friend’s home (where you were temporarily staying) at all. Seeing the familiar book shelves, the wall hangings, and the corkboard on top of the cluttered desk that had too many Shakespeare quotes than actual reminders, you were suddenly reminded that you ended up sleeping in Tom’s room. You know. Professor Tom Hiddleston’s… bedroom.

You know, your sort-of-best-friend-turned-pseudo-fiancé-Professor that you ruthlessly shagged last night.

It didn’t help that when you got up on your feet, wobbling, you realized you were in his borrowed shirt, wearing nothing else underneath. Not even your expensive underwear. (And you found them neatly folded on the edge of the bed after your little panic scheme.)

And considering how your body ached, you knew _it wasn’t just any other shag you’ve had before_.

And that sent a shiver down your spine.

Bolting out the door, completely ready for any kind of shit – whether it’s the Professor asking you to go back into his room to rest, probably wearing a lecherous grin, or was suddenly offering you a complete homecooked meal – you didn’t expect to find his living room… _empty._

Scratching your head, you manage to spot a tall glass of water covered neatly with a saucer on top, with an antacid or two lying on the makeshift cover. Approaching the dining table, you found a covered dish that contains a fresh sandwich that seemed to have been heated only an hour ago, with deli meat and a slice of cheese garnishing it. It was a good enough presentation for a meal and it would certainly do for your brunch.

But what made your already sick stomach drop was the note tucked underneath the plate, carefully folded with its tip visible to whoever approached the table. As much as you felt acidic and wasn’t really looking forward to eating anything, you swore that you need to wolf down that sandwich before reading the letter because you would need energy to read its contents as you were sure that whatever is written in there would make you want to shrink into nothingness…

Covering the sandwich once more as you pulled out the letter carefully from underneath the porcelain, you unfolded it and read:

 

_Hello Darling,_

 

_I pray you had enough sleep._

_I left you this small meal in case you were already hungry, but if you aren’t meaning to eat it, at least take it with you. You will need sustenance at one point since you were asleep all morning._

_I’m sorry I had to leave you, as I have a lecture to attend to by lunch time. I hope you find the flat comfortable for your needs, and I would be more than honored if you stayed behind and relaxed as you need more rest after last night._

_About your class with Dr. Friese, I have everything covered. I will inform him that you are currently under the weather. Do expect me to return with an assignment or a reading, after all you know how nitpicky that man is._

_Hoping to see you when I come back, although please don’t let me hold you back in previously planned endeavors._

_Don’t forget to drink your antacid._

 

_Much love,_

_Tom xoxo_

 

You didn’t have a mirror to check whether your cheeks turned red or not, but you were sure that they heated up. And despite that fluttery feeling inside your supposedly acidic stomach, you never felt so ashamed of your actions or somewhat contented that you actually did it until what happened last night.

But there was one thing for sure: you felt like swearing off vodka tonics for the rest of your life after the previous night.

 


	16. A Subtle Habanera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mattie gets you both tickets to an Opera Performance, and probably front seats to something more after dinner. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanking [Wolfie](http://iamthebadwolf85.tumblr.com) for proofing this for me again. <3

“It can be written under clause that anything offered and anything received can be put under the contract to benefit the Sponsored party. Upon discussions and negotiations with the Sponsor, certain arrangements either suggested by the Sponsor or the Sponsored can be adjusted to fit the terms of the Contract.”

 

_You can live with me if you want. We can put that under the contract._

 

His words rang like a bell in your head as you sat outside that bench in the park just across your close friend’s flat where you have been staying around for the meantime. You weren’t sure if your settlement with Mr. and Mrs. Fitz would push through after you found out that Vivian herself was about to be evicted out of your old flat.

However, staying with your professor-friend was the last thing on your mind _after everything that had happened_.

You have been seeing him around, but you try to keep it cool – good enough to play along with your current arrangement, but distant enough to calm the awkward ebb that hounded your brain ever since that night when you got drunk in his flat…and rode him like a stallion. As much as you couldn’t forget the way his face was handsomely etched as he was close to orgasm the night you had too much vodka, you tried to focus on other things whenever he’d pass you by just so you wouldn’t be eaten up by the ground thanks to the humiliation you were feeling.

And yet despite everything, his voice rings true in your head – an easy solution, a quick answer to your problem.

But it was too easy.

Not to mention, _it wasn’t what you wanted_.

Sighing miserably to yourself, you found a temporary alternative solution to your problem as your graduate school friend allowed you to temporarily stay at her place. However, you knew it was a short term thing considering that she prefers you out of the house when her boyfriend visits. It’s a very small room and despite being able to handle one big bed and you’ve got your own sleeping bag, you surely don’t want to be around when they’re fucking all over the studio-type apartment.

However, you found a bit of peace in your heart and it made a little flutter as you remember how Mattie generously offered for you to stay at his flat. _Of course_ , his voice in your head would mutter, as you happily wiggled your toes in your comfortable yet sexy black strappy heels while waiting for him, fully dressed for your second “official” date. _I don’t want any complications once you decide to live with me_.

You never thought him to be that thoughtful. You bite your lip remembering the conversation.

 _“You have to make sure that the lines are clear between me and him. You know what I’m talking about, poppet_.”

You feel your smile slowly melting away, suddenly remembering the boy’s conditions about your living arrangements. You did tell him to reconsider, after all your academic career was on the line. But he was right, what more can you ask for? You understand that in order for you and Matthew to be steady, your feelings have to be clear and you have to be exclusive.

But then you remember the contract.

And you remember Tom.

You close those wing-tipped eyes and sigh, air escaping from your rouge lips, painted with the most suitable color to compliment your makeup and your skin tone, making you glow more than ever before. Your eyes remained closed for some time, as you tried to meditate during that quiet moment as you arrived for your date to arrive. You tried to weigh the pros and cons, your love for Mattie and your commitment to yourself and to Tom; you also try to remember the main point of your goals…

Just when you think everything was creating a big ruckus in your mind, you heard footsteps in front of you.

“Why so serious, poppet?”

You opened your eyes and found the most adorable (and handsome) man you have ever met, dressed in a fine brown suit with a matching striped waistcoat underneath it, a fob watch chain hanging on a middle glass button, the device hidden in an inner pocket. You stood up on your tippy toes, a smile spreading on your face as you settled your eyes on the most snug little brown bowtie sitting just underneath his collar, speckled with a bit of beige dots that were barely noticeable, unless you leaned in close to smell his musky cologne.

“Don’t you look gorgeous,” the man said lusciously, putting emphasis on the last syllable of the last word in his sentence, as he took his time looking you up from head to toe, taking your hand.

You stood a little bit taller than your usual height, wearing the prettiest black dress with a beautiful quilted surface, with its flowing black skirt flaring from your waist, ballooning around your legs whenever you spun. A thin layer of black expensive lace crowned the hem of your skirt, slightly making your knees itch, but enough for your _lover_ to imagine how it brushed against his leg and make his own heart flutter whenever you walked closed to him.

Well, he is your _lover_.

Just the _other_ one.

At least the one you considered _official_.

Or was he?

In the middle of your thoughts as you were subtly drowning in expanded insight and discombobulation about the whole situation and your feelings about it, your seeking doe eyes were interpreted by Mattie as something of awe and desire that he just had to restrain himself from smacking your face and smearing your lipstick in public (again). He decided to offer his hand to you as he gestured towards a parked cab that he seemed to have paid extra as he managed to get you off your feet from that bench in the park.

“Shall we, madam?”

 

 

***

 

 

Mattie surprised you with tickets to an internationally-acclaimed Theatre in town that was currently hosting an award-winning troupe that was doing a run of _Carmen_ for fourteen nights in a row.

As much as you were excited to be on a date with your grad school lover boy, his taste for entertainment physically turned you on. You knew of _Carmen_ ever since you were a little girl, considering that your classmates were busy fighting over the lead role back when you were in elementary, and you were almost a teenager. Of course nobody picked you to be the red-clad gypsy seductress, and you ended up being one of the town girls. But it was this play that drew you towards love stories and eventually writing them (thus letting you discover your other hidden talent aside from the arts), and this is the other actual reason why you eventually decided to learn French when you were almost in high school.

Who knew a composer named Bizet would eventually lead you to learning another language? In the middle of your thoughts as you admired the second-to-the-topmost-box that Mattie procured for the two of you, suddenly an unexpected answer rang in your brain.

 _Tom would know_.

Weirdly enough, Tom was one of those people who knew your love for shows, plays, and operas. Of course he would know, since both you and Liz loved watching musicals whenever you had the money and the chance. Privy to this info, and noticing how Liz would often cancel dates with him (regretfully) when you and her had pre-reserved tickets to _Wicked_ , Tom eventually would reserve the tickets to following shows (you and Liz would like) to the delight of his then-girlfriend. Of course, he’d have the nerve to invite you as well, to which you’d gladly agree and then bring your then-boyfriend.

 _Ah it used to be much simpler_ , you found yourself saying in your head as you sat beside a cool-looking young man who was far from your domineering and cruel ex. _Maybe it can become simple again..._

That was when Mattie turned to smile at you, that wonderful boyish smile that caused to grin yourself and look down as you looked at the programme in your hand, trying so hard not to blush.

This was probably the first time you saw _Carmen_ again since that horribly ridiculous production led by a gaggle of unwitting English teachers who were trying hard to instill culture in a bunch of kicking and screaming ten year olds who didn’t care for anything but the pin up boys in their room. This was also the first time you came across such a production, with some talented singers and dancers who spoke French more fluently than you and Matthew combined, although you were sure that they’re performers either from London or Germany.

You never remember _Carmen_ to be this colorful. The blinding flashes of red was everywhere, and swirls of yellow and green were imbued in the costumes, the props, and several of the paints smeared on the faces of some of the smugglers. _Carmen_ brought you towards a fanfare, exported you from your currently troublesome dreary world into a Victorian-era Spain, taking your breath away with the promise of heroic soldiers and enigmatic toreadors whose smile promised to steal your heart away.

The moment the red-clad gypsy temptress emerged on the stage, you felt a fire in your heart you could not explain. Some saw Carmen as a whore, and the story does depict her as a kind of villain, despite the entire story and the opera carrying her name. But as she strode on stage and started teasing the town boys and the men started falling at her feet, you didn’t see a whore, but a passionate woman with a flourish for life.

Until she started singing the _Habanera_.

 

 

_Love is a rebellious bird_

_That nobody can tame,_

_And you call him quite in vain_

_If it suits him not to come._

_Nothing helps, neither threat nor prayer._

_One man talks well, the other's mum;_

_It's the other one that I prefer._

_He's silent but I like his looks._

 

 

Your jaw dropped.

 

You remember the girl who got cast as Carmen – she was the most beautiful girl in your class. She had curly jet-black hair and had these beautiful hazel eyes that gazed deeper than any lake or pool or wall you ever gazed upon. She was much taller than what you were, oh hell was she taller. She had a gait of a beautiful young woman, and she made you and the other ten year olds look like babies crying for their mother.

She was of Spanish descent, making her perfect for the role. She spoke both Spanish and French fluently, and sang oh so brilliantly that it made your music teacher cry. When she performed as Carmen, with the rest of you lot looking like useless gypsy wenches next to her, performing so elegantly that she captured the hearts of the audience even after the boy who played José had stabbed her character to death.

The curious thing about this _Carmen_ in your memory is that she ended up dating the teenaged boy who played the Toreador Escamillo, and she cheated on him with another who played one of the smugglers whom she had as her boyfriend until you were in junior high school. You couldn’t remember if she started having sex with one of your jock classmates at the back room when you had your Junior Prom, or maybe that was a different girl... but Miss _Carmen_ is currently living in Spain, divorced, and with a child the last you checked on Facebook. As if that mattered.

The thing was, as captivating and beautiful Carmen is, you suddenly began to listen to the song that was screaming at you like a blatant warning sign, and the plot that you have been familiar with (but did not fully understand) since you were the ripe age of ten suddenly _began to make perfect sense in your life_... as if the stars started to align.

 

 

_The bird you thought you had caught_

_Beat its wings and flew away ..._

_Love stays away, you wait and wait;_

_When least expected, there it is!_

 

 

You were half confused, half shocked as you wondered if you could relate to what _Carmen_ wassinging... or if you could identify with red-clad gypsy woman at all.

And she was – or will be, considering that point of the story – torn between two men, one who enchanted her and one who was mad jealous over her, and she chooses the Toreador over death.

But you weren’t a philandering flirty gypsy whore.

 

Or _are_ you?

 

 

_Love is a gypsy's child,_

_It has never, ever, known a law;_

_Love me not, then I love you;_

_If I love you, you'd best beware!_

 

 

There were days you wished you never bothered to learn French at all.

You sat there, at the play and date you’ve been anticipating for _weeks_ , looking like a codfish with your jaw dropped as you watched the voluptuous actress with those glorious tits about to spill out of her cleavage throw a rose to the handsome actor in the full soldier’s uniform.

 

 

***

 

 

You were tipsy after a few shots of Jameson and you were laughing so hard with Mattie fondling your arm after you emerged from that bar just near the theatre. Next thing you knew, you were both in his posh little flat.

It was a decent flat, filled with theatre memorabilia, at least the productions he had a hand in. A few of his sister’s troupe’s show posters were up his walls as well, framed in old hardwood with varnish that seemed to have been applied just a few months ago. For some reason everything seemed to be cleaned (and by a professional cleaner too) and prepared _for a certain occasion_ despite Mattie’s incessant whining on how his flat is dirty and wasn’t ready for visitors. However, despite his previous reasons to have you over after your “dates”, you were too wankered to even notice these tiny details, and were busy fawning and being touchy-feely with the man who has a loose bowtie.

In the middle of it all, you both had barely moved from the hallway that lead from the door when that same argument concerning the ill-fated crimson-dressed gypsy and her similarly ill-fated lover dragged on between the two of you.

“Carmen isn’t completely a whore!” You shot back at him drunkenly, referring to an earlier argument that started after you both left the show; the same argument lingering over dinner. “There are reasons for her actions, and you could admit that José has become quite clingy.”

The man snorted. “José may be selfish and jealous of everything that has been happening, but remember,” the scrawny young man wagged his finger at the girl who smiled back at him with a sleepy sarcastic smile, despite the intense debate. “It was Carmen who lured him in that fate after all.”

You scoffed back. “Hah! Carmen was doing what was in her nature.”

“Which is to be a whore,” Mattie cut you in between your argument, albeit a bit rudely. “And a flirt. Okay,” he said all of a sudden, taking back what he said. “Maybe she’s just a flirt.” He smiled a bit as he drank the last drop from the bottle that you handed him, the same bottle you both were sharing from the bar. “Just like you.”

Something within you snapped.

You looked at him, disbelieving the words that came out of him. Suddenly you felt your heart burn, as the alcohol seemed to have drained away as you started to see clearly – at least the man who was standing smugly in front of you. You couldn’t believe he saw you that way. He saw you as a philandering, manipulative woman who used her sexuality to gain her advancement… and worse, he seemed to see you as whore.

 

But you’re not that at all.

At times, your conscience seems to fail you.

_Are you?_

 

“I’m… I’m not Carmen.” You found yourself stuttering, as you back away from him. But with one heavy step backwards from your heels, you felt him imitate you with one domineering step towards you. “I don’t think I’m her at all.”

The man looked at you darkly, those green eyes now filled with the same brand of fire that you were wearing a few nights ago… the same night you walked out of your little nightcap, feeling so rejected. Leading you to a night that you completely regret with –

You tried to not let your thoughts stray _there_ as Mattie suddenly had you pinned against the wall in a smooth movement, causing you to gasp.

“But if I asked you to be…” he whispered slowly, biting his lip, as if momentarily regretting his words. “Asked you to be, for me…” He raised those green eyes as you realized that he was only inches from your face, those lips parted as you felt like he was holding himself back from devouring you alive.

 

 

“ _Will you be my flighty, whorish, Carmen?”_

 

 

In the silence of the moment, you heard your heart thump against your chest.

You remember him trying to resist your advances, just when you were getting impatient. There were days when you wondered if he really cared about you at all, and you wondered if he was just leading you on... or if you were just leading him on. There were even those days when you were tempted to call off the contract, try to get by on your own and with his help (as he had promised), just so your dearest Mattie could finally open up to you and give you the love and adoration you needed.

When you realize that this is all he probably ever wanted – subjugation from you.

Your eyes gleamed.

 

 

“ _All you had to do is ask._ ”

 

 

Next thing you knew, your mouth was on fire and the man had smothered his lips against yours. He ate you up greedily, as you felt him drop the bottle carelessly to the floor, spilling the very few contents left of the wine. But of course the alcohol lay forgotten as he had his hands clamped against your hips, seemingly wanting to push you into the wall, as he frantically turned and twisted his head, eating up your face the same way you’ve always dreamed of him doing.

This. This was everything you have been waiting for.

His breath against your neck, your hand against his thigh... Oh man, he had you even shoved up the wall. You were already fumbling to untie that bow around his neck, but next thing you know he had his grip on both your wrists and were putting it up against the wall, high above your head.

Everything happened so fast.

As much as you saw the wild version of him in the library and in front of that bronze statue in that garden where you both always hid to steal kisses, this version of Mattie’s sexuality was trumped up and hungry. He littered the air with feral grunts as he successfully kept your hand up on the wall behind you, with his other hand fumbling underneath your dress, trying to slip his dexterous fingers into your black panties. While he was doing all of this, he had moved his mouth to allow you to breathe, but not before he caught your lower lip in between his teeth, teasing and tugging, even letting his tongue slip in and out of his to tease your slowly reddening lip that was hooked between his canines.

“You like this,” he muttered in between his teeth still tugging on your lip. “Don’t you, my little whore?”

You gasped as you heard something clink, realizing that he may have unzipped his slacks. His hand straining to hold both of your wrists with his tightening grip struggled to keep you in place, as you looked down to find him kicking both your legs aside, as he took his throbbing erection onto his other hand, gently releasing your hip. You look down further and noticed that he managed to tear your panties into two, its remains lying on your feet by the floor.

“You’ve been waiting forever to be fucked –“

He released your lower lip with a loud pop.

You felt your breath hitch when he suddenly released your wrists, allowing you to suddenly grab him by his broad shoulders, the moment both his hands moved to grip your ass, now slowly becoming visible with how he hiked your dress up. You can feel his muscles contract as you tried to find purchase on his back, your nails clawing on that expensive coat he was wearing.

Using his strength, he managed to hoist you up, using the wall for support, as you felt your feet dangle on either side of his hips. You look down only to gasp, seeing that his engorged head was slowly touching your folds, completely oblivious to the fact that you were already dripping – you were dripping ever since he whispered in your ear in the cab and purposely let his tongue dart out to caress your outer lobe.

Now you can hear the man chuckling as he brushed his shaft against you, completely pleased that you were already without him having to touch you.

“Well then, be a good girl,” he grunted once more as he nudged you once with his cock, almost inserting it, only to pull away and adjust you against the wall with his arms and weight once more. “And follow whatever I say.”

 

 

You gulped.

 

 

You never imagined it to be this fast, but considering the dark look in his eye and that smug grin spread on his lips, the man seemed to be half pleased to know that you’d throw yourself at his feet, and half mocking you for giving in so easily.

He filled you up in one stroke.

You screamed, your head tilting up to the ceiling. You suddenly found yourself wondering if he had any neighbors, as you were afraid you’d be re-introducing him to all of them again with how you moaned his name out that night. But as you felt yourself salivate, shudder, and lose your mind; you noticed how your feet helplessly dangled off the floor with your legs wrapped on his waist.

He was biting his lip so hard it could have bled, or else you would have tasted the iron in his mouth the moment he kissed you. But before he could even give you that privilege, he shifted on his feet for a few seconds, seemingly trying to get the best position, as he completely rutted within you. By the time you came back to yourself, your entire body shuddering, you find him wearing this menacing grin that could rival _someone else’s smile_ that you know – especially when he started thrusting.

Every single thrust was accompanied by a loud, breathy grunt.

And of course, every single thrust emitted a scream or a squeal from you.

The way he fucked you was so harsh, so rough... especially when he moved a hand from your ass and started tearing your buttons apart, almost ripping your favorite black dress. Shoving your bra down, you can actually feel his hand shaking as he grabbed and kneaded your exposed breast, causing your walls to contract even more around his thickening cock.

The scream you emitted when he grabbed your tit caused you to scream his name out loud you were sure the neighbors know _who_ you belong to... at least that night. It was that one night you longed for so much, and you were smiling the entire time your classmate was finally fucking you. In fact you heard him scream too the moment your hands found his tresses, pulling them from behind his neck.

That was when he opened his eyes, a glint seemingly reflected within those green specks.

 

“You wanna play hard, bitch?” He growled, the dirty talk turning you on so bad. “Let’s play hard ball.”

 

The man then gently released the way he held your left breast in his hand... only to lean his head down and put one in his mouth.

 

You felt an electric jolt surge through your body.

 

You felt this before, and you knew this even with your old exes – tit play is one of your weaknesses. Your partner can drag your foreplay on and on, but the moment your breasts come into contact with his wet mouth, you were a goner. In fact, this theory had been tested if not very recently, just a few months ago with another man...

Your thoughts stray there once again, and you realize why Mattie probably thinks you’re a whore.

But with what he was doing, you completely felt like a sexual being begging for more. With every sharp thrust of his hip, you can feel his tongue flick against your hardened nub, drawing you close to orgasm. Once he got used to the rhythm, he released your tit that was still in his mouth and fastened both of his hands on your hips, sliding you up the wall as he drove himself into your aching cunt. It didn’t help at all when he began to rotate his hips, thrusting hard and fast into you, as if he wanted to fit the rest of his throbbing cock in you and penetrate deeper than your womb –

That was when you felt the heat coming from your center beginning to ebb.

And it was fast.

“M-Mattie,” you began to stutter in between moans. “I –’

He looked up from sucking your nipple, the glint still present in those green eyes. You couldn’t understand why but that glint made something in you burn with _fear_. It wasn’t the kind just purely made of lust – it was a mix of deviant mischief, maybe even frustration, or was it anger? But the more he looked in your eye, the more you felt that the ground was far away from your feet, and the more you felt like you’re going to be devoured alive in a way you knew nothing of you would remain. And yet, for some reason – this _made the fire of lust burn brighter within you_.

 

“I’m c-close…”

 

The man then angrily released the tit out of his mouth with a loud pop, before turning to you and growling back, “Don’t you dare come before I tell you!”

There was the glint in his eyes again.

 

“ _Don’t you dare!_ ”

 

That was when you knew you had the last straw.

Unable to hold back, you threw your head upwards and opened your mouth, a silent cry seemingly escaping your lips. You entire body felt like liquid fire, and you lost awareness of how you were positioned or how your legs were wrapped around his thin waist. You just felt how everything went numb and all your feelings were draining into the slow drip of your climax –-

 

 

_Thwak!_

 

 

Your eyes suddenly flutter open as a searing pain smeared your right cheek. You came back to your senses to find your face at an angle, with Mattie looking down at you furiously, his eyes on fire now, the glint more prominent than ever.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME, BITCH!”

You felt another searing pain on your scalp as you felt the man grab your hair, hauling you off the wall. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you felt his hands dig into your right hip as he pressed his body against yours and hauled you across the room.

He dropped you onto the carpet, just in front of the unlit fireplace. The way your back hit the floor with a thump caused you to snap out of the haze you were in earlier, and you found yourself looking up at the man who was hurriedly removing his blazer, throwing it aside.

 

Next thing you knew, he had turned you on your stomach.

 

Your eyes were filled with worry as he spread your legs once more... but he began to spread _another hole_ with his two fingers.

 

“You want to get fucked the right way, you little cunt?”

 

Your orgasm quickly ebbed out of you, and in fact you could admit that you weren’t able to fully enjoy it, despite being slapped in the face. Given different circumstances, that slap on your face would have turned you on so hard that it would have launched you in another orgasm cycle, yet the moment you heard those words escape Mattie’s mouth, you didn’t feel lust or desire. You felt _humiliation_.

 

Especially now that he’s indecently probing you, in the most uncomfortable way possible, suggesting a position that _you clearly weren’t familiar with_.

 

 

“ _I’ll show you how a cunt like you should be fucked_.”

 

 

You looked behind you to find his face strained with lust and impatience, as you horrifically watch him pull two fingers out of your ass. He then spit on his hand and rubbed it on his still engorged cock, his breath hitching as he smeared his saliva from the head down to the base, wetting is as far as the moisture can go.

You felt yourself shudder.

 

“No Mattie, I-I’m not ready –”

 

He suddenly grabbed your hair and turned your face away, almost shoving it down the carpet, completely ignoring your plea.

“Aren’t you _my_ little whore?” He growled through gritted teeth as he nudged the surface of your hole with the head of his cock, threatening to plow it in you. “Didn’t you want this? Didn’t you _crave_ for this? Didn’t you want to give this to me _and nobody else?_ ”

You felt your breath hitch and your eyes suddenly blur with tears, suddenly blurring with tears you did not expect.

“Unless you are truly a whore,” he scoffed at you, his eyebrows furrowing as he slapped the cheek of your left ass, turning the skin into a darker shade than your natural color. “ _Which you completely are_.”

 

He didn’t say anything else.

 

Not even a warning.

 

You just suddenly felt your insides being stretched, your walls burning as he filled you slowly and painstakingly. You were introduced to a whole new feeling, despite it gave you more pain and discomfort than the arousal you were feeling earlier. The world you were in were reduced from the glaring colors of your orgasm to something dark, constrained, and tight.

Very tight.

You heard him grunt the moment he got most of his cock in your ass. And then in the middle of your panting, his breathing, and the way he tried to pin you down when you tried to struggle painfully against the intrusion in your ass, you heard him _laugh_.

 

“Damn _______,” he moaned out your name, almost so mockingly. “ _You feel so good._ ”

 

You felt as if you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds – until his hips snapped against yours once more, his crotch hitting your ass violently, driving his cock deeper into your rectum.

 

You heard yourself scream again.

 

But this time, there was no hint of pleasure in the way you did it.

 

 

***

 

 

“You sure you can’t check out this Abridged version of _Coriolanus_ with Dissertations from _Dr. Philipp Moore_ for more than three weeks, darling?”

There were two librarians in the Humanities Archives, the designated library of the said department. One is an old snooty 50-year-old lady who is only friends with the previous dean, Dr. Helen Lockheart, while the second one is much younger, around her early twenties, and is one of the alumni of the History Department. Apparently, the tall professor who was holding this entire cluster of books didn’t have to entertain and possibly bribe the elder librarian with even more sweets as it was Nina (who apparently made the same fluttery eyes at him like his younger students) that was currently catering to him, batting her eyelashes at him.

“I can program that book to be checked out _for more than a month_...” she said, licking her lips and leaning over the counter. “But you’ve got to give me the usual...”

A small smug smirk appeared on the side of the professor’s mouth as he leaned closer, whispering, “The _usual?_ ” He turned his head to the side, jaw clenching a bit, before turning to smile at her again. “Whipped cream?”

Nina nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Yes, yes, yes!” She bit her lower lip. “I want it hot too...”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Sprinkles?”

The woman jumped up and down, putting her hands together, the red becoming prominent on her cheeks. She moved her glasses up and down as she watched the heartthrob of a professor flirt with her, as she caught herself before she said something naughty.

“How about the marshmallows?” She said inquisitively, winking subtly at him. The man was apt to deliver cupcakes to her and Mrs. Hawthorne, the Senior Librarian, yet he always set aside three or four pieces that were to her own liking – usually with the said ingredients.

Tom winced, wrinkling that adorable nose.

“Ah,” he shook his head. “I’m kind of short on those.” He then set down the huge pile of books he had been carrying the entire time he was conversing with the Librarian Assistant. “You see, ‘mallows are my _girl’s_ favorite.” A blush seemed to have subtly crept up his cheeks. “I may have to add those to the next batch I give you next week, just in time for my trip to the Confectionary Shop.”

Nina nodded solemnly, understanding the whole situation. The “engagement” between Professor Hiddleston and _that one grad student we all know of_ had been the news for more than a month now, and everyone were careful whenever the friendly, charming, and flirty professor is around.

“ _Be careful where you tread with Hiddles,_ ” his undergrad fans would say to one another. “ _You know your heart will be broken. He’s been no fun since he cut down on the teasing and the flirting ever since he got engaged.”_

“ _Honestly though,_ ” another would say. “ _His smiles seem brighter. I think he’s just truly happy._ ”

Now the staff wasn’t excluded from this kind of information; the fact is they’re the one who are disseminating the news to the students. Even some of the teachers who thought they had a chance with the handsome professor after he broke up with that External Affairs Administrator had to back away once he announced his engagement to the pretty grad student from the Humanities department. Nina herself would have admitted that she envied her, but after what she had to say to Professor Hiddleston that evening, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit different from what she initially felt about their engagement.

“Speaking about your girl,” the bespectacled Library Assistant said, her voice dropping as she covered her mouth. “Have you seen her lately?”

Tom’s eyes suddenly furrowed upon hearing her speak. “I…” he paused for a while, seemingly choosing his words.

He had heard from you, but only in the sense of texts and your random rehearsed smiles as you pass him by along the school corridor. But you probably haven’t spent the night at his flat ever since that embarrassing night when you were too drunk that you literally _lost control_ of yourself and your… urges. But aside from letting him steal one long kiss underneath the University Grand Library’s staircase, you didn’t have any other contact longer than that.

And honestly speaking? Tom was worried about you.

“I haven’t heard from her today,” he seemingly lied, considering that your last text to him was probably a day ago, replying to his previous message about one of your classes where the professor called in sick. “Have you –“

Putting a hand on her mouth, Nina tiptoed so she can lean over the counter and whisper in the professor’s ear. “You should check the Restricted Section.”

By the time Tom pulled back from the whisper, his eyes looked cloudy.

Without another word, he left the books he had been planning to check out on the counter, right in front of the curiously-looking Assistant Librarian. The brunette followed him with her eyes, before taking the huge pile of books from the counter and putting them aside, already scanning the codes and making them ready for checkout by the time he returned to the exit.

The man’s movements were hurried and quick, and there seemed to be a sense of urgency reflected in his gait and the way he swerved from one section to another. He passed by a few students who were left in the premises (trying to greet him despite the no-silence signs), since it was already six thirty and it was almost closing time. He also seemed to be trying to wiped this excited expression on his face, as he slowed his steps down while nearing the closed gate found in the middle of this giant wall of books that lead to the Restricted Section of the library.

It was of free access to the professors of course, but Grad students needed to have a pass. It was completely off-limits to undergrads due to the huge case of plagiarism that occurred that year before this entire “Restricted Section” regulation was set. Following that event, all of the old thesis and dissertations were enclosed in that part of the library. Sensitive material and banned literature were also stored in this section, and the undergrads keep trying to sneak in to get original videos of “scandals” and “sex-related literature” and make copies of them.

Of course he knows that one of your old batchmates from Uni works as a Junior Librarian now in the Engineering College, and you manage to steal and forge passes during the past year and always got away with it. After all, Grad students were leniently checked when it comes to security, and there have been cases of students shacking up and locking themselves up in Restricted Sections all over the school when they’re working on their projects and papers, and the librarians would just let them stay till opening even if they didn’t have an overnight pass. Tom found himself wondering why you would need to stay in the library, in the most hidden place possible, when it’s not even finals yet.

 **G** ently opening the gate, he passes through the low doorway that still functioned as shelves, stepping into this separate room still stacked from wall to wall with literature. Several tables with antique lamps stood side by side, all of them unoccupied. Two or three sofas lined the walls, each of the sets accompanied by one tall lamp, illuminating the reader and the surrounding seats when turned on.

The Restricted Section seemed completely unoccupied… save for that one seat in the blind corner of the room, unseen from the view from outside the small gate. Someone sat there with a dark blue hoodie, hidden from the rest of the world, their feet pulled up on the sofa, head turned to the side as if they were asleep.

Tom quietly approached the figure, as he took note of this large packed bag lying beside the couch where they were perched on, before slowly extending his hand to touch the hooded forehead.

They awoke with a start to turn to look at him, only to lower their head once more, seemingly refusing to be noticed. The tall professor opened his mouth, but the moment he caught a glimpse of their face, he quickly leaned close and slipped a finger or two underneath the hoodie, pulling it back –

And he suddenly came face to face with you.

You quickly move your face away from his view as your beautiful hair cascaded down your shoulders with its natural color coming into full contrast with the blue of your jacket. Trying to avoid his gaze, he still managed to drop on his knees as you felt those long fingers gently smooth against your jawline as he nudged your face to turn to his.

You weren’t able to hide the clear red streaks that were making your cheek swell, nor the black bruise that circled the lower area of your left eye. Your eyes try not to meet with his as you struggle to stop yourself from crying, although you already convinced yourself that you have cried enough tears for the past few days to even shed anything anymore.

“Sweetheart,” the sound that escaped Tom’s lips was so forlorn, despite the shock on his face. “ _What happened?”_

That’s when you turned to look at him and realized that you still had tears to cry.

 


	17. The Hand That Feeds You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between coffee and the silence of the Faculty Room, your professor friend tries to get to the bottom of things that had to do something about the scars on your face without being too insensitive about the situation. It's a hard task, but Tom is more than willing to help you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the idiom “to bite the hand that feeds”, which means treating someone badly who has helped you in some way.

Never had the bells and whistles of the contraptions and coffee pots of the Faculty Lounge filled you with such comfort and serenity like this.

You sat feebly in the great lounge chair, subtly hidden in part darkness, surrounded by four other empty chairs, dwarfed by the silence that was only broken by the soft humming of the coffee percolator. Eyes still blood-shot, you spy your old and dilapidated backpack, the only thing that can hold most of your valuables from your laptop to your tablet to your hard drives, sitting on the sofa chair beside you. You are reminded of your feeble attempt to make the Restricted Section your temporary home, at least till one of your ex-coworkers managed to clear up some space in her home for you to live in. However, considering Gretchen is a single mom with two little kids who aren’t beyond eight years old, that option seemed null.

You tried not to sniff, as the deluge of tears you released earlier made your sinuses hurt and in turn the gestures made the bruises on your face ache as well. You tried to get a grip of the situation as you looked around, only to find yourself staring at the lone figure quietly working in front of the marbled kitchen surface of the Faculty Lounge.

You find yourself gazing absent-mindedly at that broad back, the shoulder blades properly etched against the crisp light blue of his dress shirt. You have been staring the entire time, as it led you from the prying eyes in the library to the solace of the lounge. For a moment that back that belonged to a man you thought you couldn’t trust at all, that you aimlessly followed after that tearful blackout of shame you had in front of him after he discovered you in the restricted section, that strong, muscled, and firm back that you kept a safe distance from, in shame that he was to reprimand you once you arrive in the lounge.

But he didn’t.

In fact, he didn’t say anything at all.

A shiver took over your person when you remember the first time you sat in this chair in the lounge. You were being interrogated by teachers and colleagues you were familiar with about your declared relationship with Professor Hiddleston. You remember the apprehension on your face, the forced smile, and the subtle gritting of your teeth you endured as you tried to breeze through those sweet though prying questions about your secret-not-so-secret relationship.

There was a kind of warmth that emanated the room the first time you were there and it made you very uncomfortable when you saw the smile on his face as he stood side-by-side with the dean in front of the very kitchen counter he was working on. Now you felt this foreboding cold,  an endless guilt and fear that took over your whole person as you watched him work in silence, not even humming as he always used to, giving you this apprehension about what was about to happen next.

A few kitchen spot lights bounced off the golden curls on his head as he worked in front of the percolator, preparing things for two cups, scooping ingredients from here and there before returning the bottles in the mahogany cabinets that were just parallel to his head. Finally, after a few minutes, he lifted the pot from the stove and poured them into the two waiting teacups.

You quickly had to divert your swollen eyes elsewhere when the gentle giant turned around and approached you, the two cups of hot beverage in tow.

“Forgive me, darling, but the only thing I can prepare at this hour is coffee,” the Professor spoke with an apologetic tone, making you wonder why he even had to apologize and wish that he hadn’t, since it made you even feel lousy about yourself.

He delicately handed you one of the steaming cups which you gratefully accepted, despite your feebly shaking hands. You find his lips slowly purse up as he noticed this, as he let his eyes drop towards his own cup, quietly taking his place on the seat right across of you, keeping silent.

“I’m,” He tried speaking quietly again as you took a sip of your drink, only to wince once you realized that you slightly burned your tongue. You were either that thirsty or that eager you forgot to let your drink cool. “I’m sorry we don’t have your favorite brand of tea here.”

You look up at him with your hooded eyes, unsure of what to say. You sometimes think you overstayed your welcome with him, or he’s being too kind. Right now, you felt a mixture of guilt and self-hate over things you could not explain to him – and you wished he would just stop apologizing.

“It’s no big deal,” you find yourself whispering back, wondering why you had to fight back the tears.

For a moment you thought your own personal crisis of trying to hide your actual predicament from Tom was averted when you saw him smile behind his cup. You thought you can hold him long enough from asking about those bruises and cuts on your face (and several more underneath your clothes that you have no intention of showing him) when he started talking about food and other things you actually liked.

“This is a nice brew of coffee they got a week ago,” he muttered, chattering on about it. “Moroccan, I believe. Dr. Sullivan had been to a convention in Africa a week ago and came back with a pack for every department,” he recounted as he took a whiff of the coffee.  “Well, as you can see she probably saved a whole basket for ours –”

Somehow, the sound of Thomas talking animatedly about random things seemed to calm you down. He’s always been like this with you, animated and hyper. Whether he’s talking about that favorite play he wants to participate in, that Shakespeare discussion he had with his class earlier, that new movie he wanted to see, a new brownie recipe with a coffee twist he found on Pinterest, he does so with such joy and life that it seems as if he doesn’t care at all whether the person who is listening is interested or not. But of course, we all know his sensitivity is way more than that, but when he knows you’re listening, _the more lively he is_.

On most days you probably didn’t mind much and would actually listen to his rambling, and lately you hated to admit that you _pretend_ to ignore his enthusiasm in an attempt to stomp down _whatever feelings_ you had for him, but right now, you couldn’t understand the reason why you suddenly felt something in the pit of your stomach... something painful.

As if you were being _punched in the gut_ all over again.

And the more he talked, the more that pain inside your gut spread upwards, even making your chest hurt. You found yourself drowning in the one thing you thought you were familiar with, but a feeling so relatively fresh and new when it comes to Tom, you never found yourself so guilty of your previous actions towards the man.

And what even hurt so much is that pity you were feeling for yourself or that imagined pity you thought _he was feeling for you_.

It was within his words. It was within his _kind words_.

Sure he had been babbling for almost seven minutes straight, but not even once did he try to pry the story behind your tear-stained face, your getaway bag, and those bruises on your cheeks. You swore he even tried to hide that look of shock or worry when he tried to hold you by the shoulder when you got up from the couch you were hiding on, as you emitted this painful groan when he applied pressure to that part of your body.

But the fact that he covered it all up with his happy little ramblings about his happily cozy life at the College, and the fact that he’d been slowly making his way towards a topic you were _sure to be interested in_ for the past seven minutes – something he knew you’d always react and interact to, just made him seem so involved and interested to get you out of your mood.

And he just had to be so _kind_.

And with all the things you just told yourself in your head – the fact that you faulted him for being kind, for thing that _he was just pretending to be kind to you_ , the way you found yourself somewhat demeaning that “cozy life he has on campus” that you really don’t have full knowledge about in comparison to whatever shit you’ve been in, suddenly douse you with realization and remorse, causing your eyes to tear up again, hating yourself.

“I actually found this brew very interesting, since it works well with a teaspoon of butter, though of course I prefer a huge dollop of ghee.” He continued gibbering passionately about the topic at hand, as he seemed to be lost in his thoughts of brews and recipes that you felt it was safe for you to go unnoticed as your eyes began to well up. “And then there’s this recipe I am following for that wonderful Moroccan brew where you get to add a little bit of honey and syrup –”

His voice seemed to drift away how you lowered your head as you placed down your teacup on the coffee table in front of you. You wished you could disappear into your hood again, but that whole plan would have failed considering that you would definitely get his attention once you try to pull it over your head. But as you were lost in your painful thoughts, your rash memories, you barely noticed how his babbling came to a slow stop as those blue eyes shifted from his brew to your quiet figure hunched right across where he was seated.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was suddenly quiet, lacking the mirth of how he was speaking earlier. As you tried to sort out your thoughts and your fears, the quiet alarm found in the tone of his voice slowly made you realize that despite hiding your face behind a cup of coffee, you cannot complete escape the professor’s intuitive eyes. “You’re crying again.”

You felt your breath hitch.

So many things were spinning in your head. Cackling sounds, hurtful words, a complete confusion and a strong and violent feeling you couldn’t discern that had to do something with “disobedience.” Half of you wanted to rebel, to scream out and cry; yet half of you was dying of shame, wanting to hide everything that wasn’t even visible, and yet you feel so naked and indecent that you just wanted to disappear in your not-so-quiet silence.

And yet with these two personas that you have been switching on and off for the past few months ever since you had that arrangement with _this_ Professor, ever since you had to switch from one mask to another after one long endless masquerade for one, you never realized how Tom could see past every single false face you put on.

His voice was soft, yet firm. Yet despite the tone, you could recognize that definite strand of concern laced with deep feelings you’ve been running away from since you both first met.

You seemed to have snapped out of your own pity trance when you heard the clink of his own teacup meeting the mahogany surface of the table.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

You looked at him as if all the sound in the room was snuffed out and you lost the capability to hear. Within that moment, it seemed as if you saw him.  _You actually saw him_. You finally looked with your own eyes and not with those distorted glasses you fashioned for yourself in order to extricate him from the reality you have created.

And that was when you realized that painful truth _that he always cared._

 

“You needn’t be so kind to me...” The words that escaped your mouth sounded as if it wasn’t your own.

 

You watched Tom’s eyebrows scrunch up, as his beautiful face was distorted into something of utter confusion. He made that face as if you were strumming a harp and hit one note awkwardly filling the room with this loud painful, off-key sound.

 

You ignore that expression anyhow. “After everything I did,” you stuttered.

 

If there was a time when you could barely hear what was coming out of your mouth but it just flowed past your lips and spilled into the world, it was this moment. You didn’t know why, but you had to. And all these words had to be said in order to mend and heal that giant wound inside your chest... Although you would say that when you looked back at this moment, you weren’t very proud of it.

“I...” Despite all the emotions you wanted to express to the one person who was willing to listen to you at that moment, you found it difficult to speak. “I would... I w-would appreciate it if,” you bit your lips, still holding your head up high, still fighting to keep yourself together, despite how broken you really were. “You would stop being that kind to me.”

The way his face dropped would have been priceless if you were trying to insult him. But with your eyes blurring with tears, you couldn’t see that expression that would have stopped you in mid-sentence with what you were trying to say. Lines formed on Tom’s head as that smile that brightened the room earlier was upturned, as those blue eyes suddenly seemed drained with joy and was hollow.

“Please don’t force yourself to be.” You dared to look at that horrified face that didn’t seem to fathom what you were saying. “I think it’s only fair if _you just gave me what I deserved_.”

 

There was suddenly an awkward silence between the two of you.

 

He clenched and unclenched his hands as he shook his head, unable to mask the displeasure on his face. But as he turned to look at you, just there, hiding bruises underneath your hair covering your face, looking at him with those red-shot eyes, he just can’t seem to see the point of what you’re asking of him.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was quiet, yet there was sheer confidence in his tone, compared to yours. He had no reason to be anxious. But with what he said next, with the visible pain in his words, you knew he was _scared_. He was scared _for you_. “But I...I cannot give what you ask of me. Not this.”

You didn’t know what took you to sit there and hold all that flood of tears in your eyes. Whether it was pride, or it was that sudden confusion that flashed through your face, you suddenly find yourself facing those words “I cannot give you what you ask of me” as if it was the start of the Contract all over again. But as he continued speaking, that was when everything made sense.

And the spear of the pain you were feeling earlier, self-pity, self-anger, and the realization that you have failed a _dear_ friend who always stood by you even if you pushed him away _despite circumstances_ , the spear slowly lodged itself into your chest once more.

“I do not understand,” his voice was firm. “But there is no way that I can bring myself to be _unkind_ to you.”

The way he said your name at the end of the sentence was flooded with so much pain that he looked like a puppy that you dropped and kicked. And still, between the two of you, he looked like the decent one – not with the runaway bag, not the unemployed graduate student, and definitely not the one broken and battered _for reasons not implied_.

And that made you feel horrible all over again.

“Please,” he begged. “Do not ever ask me to do that again.”

You felt your breath hitch, the pain of having to deal with the fairness of this man eating at you. It would have been easier if he treated you like shit. You wouldn’t feel guilty, or imprisoned in the contract, _like how you felt with that current relationship you were having with another man..._ Although the contract wasn’t really the cage at this point (and at this moment it served more like a sanctuary than anything _painful_ ), it was the Professor’s heart of gold that remained constant and caring despite your discrepancies and crudeness that made you wish you didn’t have to feel so guilty and angry at yourself even more after having to run to his side for help you still couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

“W-won’t you r-reconsider,” you tried bargaining with him, as you held your clammy hands together in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I kn-know it’s in your nature to be this kind and giving but...” You felt your chest tighten.

“This. Us. The contract. I cannot –” You felt your entire person shiver, remembering the similar plight you had to go through _that you can’t bring yourself to talk about_. “I cannot... after everything I did...” Your hand continue to shake, as you attempted to make a gesture to accompany and give gravity to your broken words.

“I cannot give back anything” You sighed. “I cannot give back anything that entails to your kindness.”

You didn’t see the thin line that formed from Tom’s lips.

“Is this what you think it’s all about?” He can barely hide the abhorrence in his voice, causing you to cringe and blink, causing most of your cradled tears to fall down your cheek. “Giving back what is due? That my kindness –”

He grit his teeth.

“My kindness is just some sort of act I put up for you?” You barely see him wince from the pain he tried not to show to you for years now, the same pain that appeared on his face when you walked out on him the first time he kissed you after his breakup. But he would have been assured, since you were drowning in your tears to even notice any cues from his face.

“When will you realize,” he asked softly. “That _this kindness_ is _more than that?_ ”

He tried to stab at a point, hoping you’d see right through it...

“You shouldn’t be thinking about compensation for everything _I gave to you_ ,” he continued, the bitterness still palpable in his voice. “And the contract...”

This time, it was your turn to wince as you watched him grit his teeth.

“And this – this is beyond the contract,” he somewhat reassured that nagging voice inside your troubled head, despite that pain in his voice. “There is no way that I would bring myself, even upon your request, to treat you badly, to hurt you, or to soil our relationship –”

You suddenly saw him glance up at you, as you found a deep well of emotions in those eyes for a second. “Whatever this may be,” he quickly dismissed whatever he could have been thinking at that moment, snatching his glance away from you. “With any kind of cruelty.”

A sigh escaped the man, upon finding you still staring at a spot on the coffee table, unable to look at him. What he didn’t realize is how his words were slowly sinking in your head, trying to seep in the recesses of your stubbornness, slowly making sense.

“I can only treat you with the utmost respect and humane fairness,” he uttered, hoping to drive the point home. “Contract or no contract.”

Never has your heart ached this much. The truth started to dawn on you, like acid rain on broken ground. You didn’t deserve him. Not as a lover or friend, considering how you treated him. How you poisoned the thought of the Contract in your brain. How you abhorred his initial acts of gentleness towards you and everything else that happened within agreement. You were so blind, you would have to kick yourself as penance in the future.

And with this, you realize Tom deserved the truth from you.

_At least the truth._

A violent sob escaped your lips, sounding like a preliminary tremor that was about to make way for the earthquake that was about to fill the room. And the earthquake came out in a series of words that made his skin turn pale upon hearing it.

 

“ _He v-violated me._ ”

Your eyes were now free of the tears they was holding, drenching your cheeks and your face as you let your feelings go. You could now clearly see the horror on Tom’s face as he sat on the edge of the sofa chair, painfully listening and recalling the three words that escaped your mouth.

You looked back at him, waiting for a reply, but you can tell that he was like in a dream-state that was more of a nightmare, trying to absorb what he just heard.

 

“Wh-who did –” his voice shook.

 

You thought it was of shock and fear. You didn’t know it was of horror and anger still masked behind that gentle face.

 

The way you said his name made you feel so weak. “ _Mattie_.”

 

You saw how Tom’s face changed.

You slowly saw how shock turned into anger, how those baby blues slowly being clouded by something else, something you suddenly wished wouldn’t encounter personally. He gripped the armrests of his sofa chair as you watch him grit his teeth, looking away once he realizes that you were starting to read the rest of his transparent emotions at that moment, as your eyes slowly began to fill with tears again.

Once again you found yourself drowning in shame...

In guilt...

Wondering why you had to entrust yourself to someone who would hurt you.

And as you saw the shock in Tom’s eyes, you suddenly hate yourself for thinking of such _terrible things_ of him when it turns out that you weren’t sleeping with the enemy at all.

You found something worst.

 

After that, everything happened so fast.

Hot tears started flowing down your battered face at a rapid rate, floodgates opened anew. You were so overwhelmed with emotion, with confusion, and all the pain that you just curled up into a ball as you covered your face, letting out everything you’ve been hiding for the past fourty-eight hours… or more. Suddenly you found the sofa-chair too big for the way you huddled up yourself in a corner, still in pain.

Without wasting any moment, your professor-friend stood up and made his way towards you – no words, nothing else. He quickly wrapped his arms around you as he crouched low, quickly gathering you close to him as he gently lead you to a standing position before having you sit over to the wider couch just beside you.

Your body followed his actions and prompts, and for once you didn’t question why. Without thinking, without even discerning, you released all your inhibitions and allowed yourself to be dwarfed in those large arms as you cried into his shirt. He shifted so you could huddle up right next to his body, allowing him to hold you closer as he ran a soothing hand repeatedly on the length of your back, his other hand free to caress the back of your head.

You cried with no resistance, as though you suddenly were given consent to feel, to regret, and to release all of your emotions in one sitting. And your professor-friend was nothing but supportive at that moment, crowning you with silence and tenderness. Before today, you would have hated him for doing all of this, fearing he had an ulterior motive. But right now, you would say that this has been the only comfort you have had ever since that night you spent with Matthew. Rather than to receive punches and blows, rather to having your body tainted and pained, rather having someone else use objects on you without consent, Tom’s actions were much better than all of that.

He showed you the kindness you were looking for at that very moment and that mattered so much.

He waited until you calmed down.  Amidst your sobs and your heavy breathing, you found solace in the constant repetitive motion of his fingers threading through your locks.

You raised your head from his sleeve, like a child who finally controlled their sobs and was starting to calm down.  Looked around absentmindedly after losing yourself in the overflow of emotions, you glanced up to find a pair of tender blue eyes surveying you.

“I-I’m sorry.” You find yourself suddenly apologizing, looking down as you felt embarrassed with your outburst.

Tom curled his lip. “Nonsense,” his statement was firm but his voice was gentle. “Never apologize for expressing your emotions.”

You sat there for a moment, trying to get a hold of yourself past the tears, the hiccups, and everything that accompanied overflow of emotions, before finding the courage to nod at him.

“Okay,” the voice that came out of your mouth didn’t sound like your age.

There was a sparkle in his eye upon hearing you say that. You saw a shadow of a smile on his mouth, before he hesitantly opened it, seemingly thinking about what to say next. “Alright,” he seemed to be trying to grasp what he wanted to say, as the rest of his anxiety and his concern for you couldn’t be translated into words just yet. Yet the only thing he could express was the way he stroked your back and your hair, and this would have been enough comfort to calm you down after your outburst. “Do you feel better?”

You found yourself wincing involuntarily, not noticing how this redirected his attention towards your scars again. “A little...”

Burying your head against his chest once more, you found solace in that one solitary nod he made before brushing his mouth against the nest of your hair, sending down a warm fluttery shiver down your spine. Months ago this would have made you very uncomfortable, but at this moment it gave you this beautiful feeling of calm and relief that took over your entire person. And you loved it.

“May I make a suggestion?”

For a moment, you felt like snapping back at attention with the sudden reappearance of that firm tone that embodied his Professor persona. Although you abandoned your initial crass and cold demeanor towards him at the start, you couldn’t help but momentarily flickering your shields up again when you heard _that_ formal tone and turned up to look up at him.

“One way to make yourself feel better is to talk about it,” he whispered, snatching his eyes away from your pained ones. “Only...” He paused, momentarily biting his lip, before returning those deep blues on you. “If you’re willing to.”

You slowly felt something being lifted off your chest as you blinked at him.

 

“Will you tell me _everything_ about it?” His voice was gentle, and you might have even imagined it to be sweet.

 

Although you somewhat didn’t think of it, _this_ was everything you were waiting to hear.

You sat up, having to pry yourself from the solace of his arms. Looking down, you dried your tears in such an unladylike manner with your sleeve, as you tried to piece up your memories, trying to know where to start without making a tit out of yourself. But then you realize, there is no other way you’d make yourself look any more honorable with what has happened to you. And this fact just made your heart sink further. As you were composing your thoughts, Tom just quietly watched you, waiting for you to open up.

 

And then, came the flow of words you never thought you’d ever speak, let alone out loud.

 

You decided to start from the beginning.

Well at least from the point where it sort of all began – the day when you decided that it was a great day to visit the Opera with your _other_ secret boyfriend.

You never have found yourself so brutally frank.

It was as if your mind was on hold, asleep, seemingly turned itself off to save you from the pain of reliving everything as you let the mouth do the talking. And it spewed everything you wanted to forget, everything you were ashamed of, and everything that Tom wanted to know about.

With your mind closed and your mouth just working overtime, you decided to spill all.

The forced anal experience you received towards the end of what seemed to be a pleasantly rough sexual affair you’ve always been dreaming of.

The way he just left you on the carpet, drenched with his juices, your face bruised when he smeared your head against the floor.

You talked about he fell asleep in his room minutes later, completely forgetting about you in his living room, naked and confused.

You talked about how you tried to pick yourself together and left his flat in the middle of the night, hoping to make your way back to your friend’s house, when you suddenly remember about the fact that you weren’t welcome there for the meantime and you already had arrangements with Matthew.

You bitterly spoke how you were in the middle of crossing the road, all cold and chilly, with a torn dress when you had no choice but to go back to your _other lover’s flat_.

You blankly and monotonously recounted how you sat in a closing cafe’s outdoor seating with one lone giant garden umbrella dangling over your messy hair, trying to think of an excuse to get yourself out of that mess.

But then you tell your listener how you ended up walking through Mattie’s door anyway, the boy glaring down at you as he sat with a cup of coffee, still wearing no underpants.

You talked about how you were forced to apologize.

You talked about how you were suddenly put on another _agreement_ – despite being verbal, on how you were to _“pay”_ for the nights you spent at his flat with sexual favors _you could not resist_.

You took heed not to tell Tom that for some reason Mattie’s arrangement felt sicker to the stomach than his.

You decided to be transparent about what happened to you during the two days that you spent at Mattie’s flat.

About the incident with the paddle.

The endless spankings.

The riding crop that made you tear up before it made contact with your ass.

The nipple clamps.

The pegs.

The vibrators up your ass.

The enema.

 

At one point, you just couldn’t keep speaking as you broke down in tears again.

 

Tom didn’t hesitate to pull you in his arms as you sobbed, quietly whispering in your hair – telling you not to continue about your _story_ if it didn’t make you feel comfortable... And then came his apology for asking you to relay all of that to him when he should have been more sensitive about your feelings about it.

But you did not notice how he grit his teeth and jerked his jaw in silent anger, as he gripped the lounge sofa you were both lying on, almost ripping out the leather and the stuffing with his bare hands.

He quietly calmed himself down by repeatedly stroking your hair, those anger lines of his face still firm and those blue eyes still glaring at a distance; the shock and the disgrace of what happened to you still sinking in his brain.

And then amidst the idle moment when you have calmed down yourself, you were suddenly jarred back awake from that hazy state of comfort when you heard his flat, monotonous voice unable to hide the seething distaste.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Once more you find yourself, tear stained, feelings slowly seeping back into your veins after shutting them all out to tell your story. But when you looked up at that angled face, his lips now formed in a thin line.

“I –” You started, suddenly pausing to actually think as you sit up, feeling his hand fall from your head as he seemingly stared you down as if he was about to reprimand you. In turn, you couldn’t help but wonder _why didn’t you call him_.

Was it because of fear?

Fear of what?

Fear of scandal?

Fear of having him find out about your other relationship? But that’s the thing. _He already knows_. And to think about it, he didn’t seem to mind.

Was it because of shame?

It was probably because of shame.

Or was it because of the fact that _you had too much pride to actually ask him for help when you actually needed it_?

But isn’t that _what the contract was all about_?

 _We’re you trying to preserve your ego after surrendering yourself to him through that contract_?

Maybe...

You opened your mouth and thought of the best answer that would hopefully wipe off that displeased look on the Professor’s face. “I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

Tom snarled this time and this made you back away, after _everything you have seen lately._ “How can I _not bother about you?_ ” He hissed. “How can I keep myself out of the loop?! I was worried about you!”

Panic began to show on your face. “I-I just didn’t want to get you involved in this.”

“The moment I became your friend, I was already involved in this,” he said through gritted teeth, momentarily losing his temper. But upon seeing the way you slowly backed away from him, the fear of men losing their temper and doing _unspeakable things to women_ reflecting in your eyes, he began to slowly calm down, letting his arms slump against the leather surface of the couch.

“I’m sorry.”

You hold your legs up, bringing both of your hands together, before nervously biting on your thumb nail. You didn’t realize till later that you haven’t done this since University when you thought your thesis defense would bomb. As you found yourself glancing at your companion whose expression softened with regret from his earlier actions, you found yourself easing up again.

“I’m sorry I...” Tom’s voice trailed away as you suddenly welcomed that soft and gentle touch he placed on your outstretched hand on the couch, seemingly coaxing you into his arms again. “I must have gotten carried away.”

“None taken,” you whispered as you brushed off the tears on your face with the back of your hand.

For a moment, silence reigned in the Faculty Lounge, and you were quite sure that night has begun to settle. There were footsteps that could be heard down the hall, but they’re faint and far away to recognize, and the only thing that stood between you and that Professor who couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his hands for some _good reason,_ was the hum of the refrigerator.

But by the time Tom managed to open his mouth, you slowly realize that there is no way you could make this whole experience comfortable for you or him.

Especially with what he had to say.

“Why did you even do that...” His voice was somewhat filled with disappointment, as if he was offended. The way he raised his blue eyes to meet up with yours suddenly made the context of the question clearer to you. “With him?”

You recognized the sorrow in his voice.

You suddenly understood the feeling of being rejected.

The feeling of being second choice.

He wasn’t saying it out transparently, in the same way you just spilled your guts out to him earlier. But upon realizing the effect the whole thing had on him, you suddenly felt regret creeping up your face, shame on having to even choose your psychotic classmate over him, and end up the one with the humiliating scars.

You didn’t know who you felt more sorry for – him or yourself.

“I...”  You bite your lip, as you curl up against yourself, keeping distance from the Professor. Suddenly, there was no answer you can give him that would put him or you at peace. “I don’t know.”

Tom blinked at you, seemingly dissatisfied with that answer.

You looked up at him and feared that maybe you were right about his feelings. Twiddling your fingers, being submerged in the tense atmosphere wherein you felt like you needed to prove why you just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire, despite your initial reaction of being stubborn towards Tom, you now felt like you owed your friend an explanation.

“I wanted...” Even the words didn’t sound right when they came out crooked and hesitant from your mouth. “I wanted to try out something...”

Tom once again raised an eyebrow.

You felt like shrinking. “Something new.”

The man made an expression akin to someone glaringly waking up from a bad dream as he blinked and shook his head, shifting from his position on the couch. “You wanted to try out,” his mouth sneered a bit. “Abuse?”

You find yourself wincing, suddenly remembering those painful blows you received on your ribs and on your gut as “punishment.” The way your expression changed to something akin to a bad trigger, you saw Tom straighten up from the periphery of your eye, as you looked down on your legs, hiding those other welts you don’t want to talk about underneath those thick layers of clothing.

“I’ve been a bad girl.” You echoed those words you’ve been hearing for the past few days before you realized you’ve had enough and would rather be a homeless grad student living in the restricted section. “I have to be punished.”

You were slowly drowning in the haze of the mess you would have called self-pity when you were seemingly jerked back into reality, as the sound of someone angrily clucking their tongue disturbed the silence in the room. You barely noticed how Tom would look at you with worry since you would once in a while sink into a catatonic state while talking to him.

“And you believed that?!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, looking at you bewilderedly. “You believed him –”

You were quick to answer this time around but it sounded more of a slip than a calculated remark.

“But he said he loved me.”

You turned to look up at those blue eyes now burning with a fire that he had been hiding from the moment he found out _exactly happened to you_. Frustratingly popping his jaw to a distinct direction, Tom formed fists and gripping the couch once more, before initially transforming into a man you barely knew, someone who was _sick and tired of being lied to._ Or at least someone dealing with fabricated realities.

And it wasn’t just about Mattie lying to you or you believing in them.

There was something more to it that you had to remember once you are out of this ordeal.

And that had to be for another time.

Shaking his head, Tom let out this frustrated sigh before opening his mouth to speak. “Love does not equate to abuse, _pumpkin_ ,” he exclaimed as-a-matter-of-factly with a grave expression on his face as those eyes looked as if he wanted to devour you, but for different reasons. “Not in this world, not ever.”

You looked down and nodded. It felt as if you’re being told off by your mother. Again.

All of a sudden, you felt something gentle slip under your chin to raise it up, only to find yourself looking in those intense eyes once more but now softened with a resolve to comfort you aside from trying to make you _understand_.

“And not on _my_ watch.” His words were firm and finite as he spoke, before gently releasing your chin.

“I- I’m sorry.” You felt small and so uneducated. Suddenly, you felt as if you were in middle school again and you didn’t know how to kiss a boy. However, if you were so transparent to say your thoughts out loud, you were quite sure that Tom would apologize once more and tell you that he didn’t mean it and this would all be a vicious cycle. “I didn’t know any better.”

You turned to look at him, as you saw a calculated look in those eyes, something that was discerning and slightly laced with pain. You found something that he seemed to hide, such as questions he didn’t want to pry any further. But you saw it – that small pinch of pain.

You tried to numb out that part of your brain that recognized that pain on Tom’s expression as you watched him wrinkle his nose, seemingly wiping it off his thoughts as well. To your surprise, you found him extending his hand once more and raising your face to level with his by cupping your chin.

You felt your breath hitch for a while, coming into clear contact with those baby blues that now surveying you in a different manner.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed in such a way that it vibrated in his ribcage, allowing you to feel the rhythm considering you were pressed against him. “We need to do something about those scars, love.”

You let out a sigh of relief realizing that the look he gave you was more of scrutiny but then you felt something deep inside of you wilt in some sort of disappointment. You didn’t want to know why.

You felt yourself nervously twiddling with your fingers again. “I could... I could go to the clinic, you suggested. “If you have access to it.”

Tom let out this soft sigh and sat up.

“No,” he said firmly as he got up, and started picking up the used tea cups on the table. “We’re not going to the clinic.”

You watched him clear the china, along with the unfinished coffee he made for you. For some reason, you were sad to see it go.

“I’m taking you home.”

You quickly snap out of the self-imposed trance while staring at the coffee stains on the table upon hearing those words escape his mouth. You look up to find yourself staring at that firm ass that was walking away from you and towards the pantry sink.

“But –” you retorted, sitting up from your comfy position.

You find yourself turning red for some reason as he turned around to lean on the surface of the pantry counter, those stern eyes glazing over yours upon hearing your reply.

“For once, darling” Tom seemed to be pleading, despite the exhaustion on his face. “For once can you not let your ego take over the situation?”

You felt your eyes widen in complete shock upon hearing those words from his mouth. You were aware that you refused to give him power over you due to various things he already has control of: the contract, your academic future, your emotions. You knew you were so afraid of completely entrusting yourself to him that you had to always have your guard up whenever he’s around. You just... you just didn’t know that he seemed to be aware of it. And judging the pain and the exhaustion on his face, you suddenly realize his feelings about it.

And this made you try and reconsider things.

“For once, do not try and overwork yourself, push past your limit when you know it won’t be good for you."

He put both his hands on the marble counter and looked down, trying to avoid your blank and passive gaze. Little did he know you were just gaping at him in complete shock, wondering how he figured you out. Eventually in the future, you will realize that you’ve been stubborn for too long that someone _as intelligent_ like Thomas will eventually figure you out.

“I don’t...” He bit his lip, trying to make his words less blunt. “I won’t sit here and watch you get into trouble _when I can help_.”

He looked up from the counter.

“For once, please let me help you,” he reasoned out. “And for once, please don’t refuse it or refute it or demean it.”

You close your mouth as you to look away in shame, knowing everything he said was true. In fact, you probably have heard these exact words from him before and suddenly you realize that the two of you were starting to sound like a broken record.

Just because you did not want to give in.

“It’s all I ask of you,” he pleaded quietly. “And I think of nothing else but your welfare.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that lapsed between the two of you, as you sat there on the sofa awkwardly, trying to think of a retort or something to give you the upper hand, when you realize that you had none. You both have come to a point where everything was too transparent and there was no other way you could lie or tell him off at this point.

“Okay.” That was your only reply.

You sat there in silence as you watch him nod quietly, still keeping his eyes away from you as he continued to work on the dirty cups, with his back behind you.

For a moment, you just quietly sat there, like a child who has just been told off by her father, unable to hide or crawl out of the shame she created around herself. Suddenly, your initial fear of Tom being disappointed and crass returned, as you watch him work in silence, drying and putting the cups on a tray.

To your surprise, he dried his hands and quietly sauntered over to the sofa chair where your hiking bag was placed before picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder. You turned to him with a questioning look before being speechless yourself when he suddenly flashed you this gentle smile that you haven’t seen since you both started talking that evening.

“Come,” he said softly, stretching out his arm to yours, beckoning to you. “We’re going home.”


	18. Forego the Rent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a stressful night, the professor tries to make things comfy for you as you prepare to sleep in his flat. And that includes a nice, hot, steamy bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for proofing, [Wolfie](http://iamthebadwolf85.tumblr.com)!

The trip back to the professor’s flat was awkward and mostly silent.

Very few words were exchanged, like Tom asking you what you would want to eat for dinner, and knowing you could not refuse, you asked him to choose. He did not notice the relief on your face when he chose a deli instead and bought some sandwiches and a big bag of chips for you to share.

The silence didn’t improve in his flat either.

He asked you to make yourself at home (for the nth time) before disappearing into the guest bedroom to set it up. You stood there in the living room like a deer in headlights, realizing that the man was moving mountains to give you privacy when you used to think that the bastard would jump the chance to bone you when he can. But then you remember the words that escaped his lips, saying that _the contract is more than that._

You found yourself slowly sinking into a sitting position on his living room sofa with an exhausted and helpless look on your face.

Looking around his flat, you were reminded of the initial discomfort you faced the moment you first stepped into his home . The first day of the contract, the awkwardness after the first time you had sex, the way he took you so wantonly over the kitchen counter.

But then again there was a flicker in your brain that you had been here before, _a very long time ago_. It was a time when your heart was still tied up with someone else’s and Tom was devoted to your best-friend Elisabeth. He had invited you and your-then lover for tea to celebrate Lis’ birthday with him, and you were more than happy to buy your best-friend her favourite cake despite the fact that Tom already had one waiting in the oven. It was a wonderful night filled with music, dancing, and lots and lots of sweets; you were in love with someone back then and so was Tom.

You looked around and smiled, remembering that there was more to this living room that what you remembered and Tom was more than a dirty professor you initially assumed him to be ever since you applied for the Rosencratz scholarship.

That was when your heart sank.

You were slowly coming to terms with the _real reason_ why you couldn’t give yourself completely to this professor who seemed to yearn for your body, heart, and soul, when your thoughts were interrupted by the same person who walked out of one of his guestroom, looking a bit harried from hauling out pillows and a new stack of sheets.

“The room is ready,” Tom exclaimed the moment he marched out, brushing those large hands against his jeans after adjusting the reading glasses that were left on his nose. “I was wondering if you wanted to go straight to bed or have a warm bath?”

You blinked shyly at him, feeling bashful and grateful wrapped up in a tiny package, the butterflies humming in your stomach make you feel queasy and suddenly in need of a nice soak.

“I—” You found yourself stuttering all of a sudden as you stand up feebly from the couch, making your way towards him, considering that the bathroom was situated just behind him, beside his room and the said guest room. “I don’t want to bother you with the bath, I-I think I can do it.”

The way he wrinkled his nose and stepped towards you, hands outstretched in a position to sit you back down on the couch was so adorable, although you wouldn’t be caught saying this one out loud.

“Nonsense,” he cooed, hand flying towards your shoulder. “You sit down and I’ll prepare a nice hot soak for you.”

The awkwardness was seemingly broken when he touched your shoulder and you yowled like a cat in pain.

No one could explain or describe the panic in Tom’s eyes as he quickly retracted and stretched then retracted his arms again around you, unsure of what to do. You were left there with your mouth wide open as you quickly cover it up, as you quickly moved it towards the said shoulder, massaging it.

“O...Ow...” You muttered quietly as you ran a gentle hand over your muscles underneath your shirt and that blue hoodie that was still on your person, unsuccessfully trying to eradicate the pain from your hidden bruises.

You glance up only to find your professor-friend looking at you with so much concern and apprehension in his eyes, as he slowly shook his head and clucked his tongue; those fingers clenching as if he was dying to heal your aches but he couldn’t put a hand on you right now in fear that you weren’t ready to have someone else’s hands all over you.

“What are you hiding from me underneath that hoodie, _pumpkin_?” Tom felt himself whisper in a breathy voice, unblinking as you look away painfully, completely ignoring that old nickname that would often cause you to throw a fit whenever an old friend of yours uses it in your presence.

“I’m not really hiding,” you say bitterly, unable to filter the pain brimming through your voice. “It’s just – They’re just…”

You turn to look up at him as you felt a part of you about to give way again.

Suddenly getting the hint of a possible breakdown, Tom quickly raised his hands and diverted from the topic, uttering, “Oh honey, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” He winced. “But whatever that needs healing under those layers needs to be soaked up by a warm bath first.”

You were about to open your mouth when Tom wagged a finger in your direction.

“ _Ah, ah, ah_ ,” he said quickly, in a manner that made your heart jump and your cheeks blush. “No more retorts. I would love it if you returned to the couch as I prepare a bath for you.”

You clamp your lips shut, your other hand still clutching your aching shoulder as you found yourself looking up at him with those wide-eyes still somewhat swollen with the tears you cried out earlier. You found yourself nodding obediently to the man you never thought you’d ever comply with. You definitely had no idea how he found this gesture of yours completely adorable, causing a smile to appear on those weary lips.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered softly as he gently stroked the apple of your cheek with the back of his knuckles, letting a finger or two trace the contour of your face before turning around to disappear inside his bathroom.

You wobbled painfully back to the couch, still massaging your bruised body as you sat on his chaise lounge, waiting for him with a non-plussed stare.

 

 

***

 

 

“Bath is ready!”

The way he called out reminded you of your mother calling you to dinner. There was a certain homely feel to it that made you feel like you wanted your mother’s apple pies all of a sudden. Then you had that realization that maybe Tom could bake those too, albeit in his own recipe.

Shaking your head, trying to get your mind away from food, despite the fact that you only finished half of your sandwich in the deli earlier, claiming that you still had no appetite after your emotional outburst this afternoon, you found yourself trudging towards the familiar bathroom, steam billowing past its slightly open door.

The man emerged from all of that with his sleeves rolled up, looking at you as if you were a drenched and shivering puppy he found in the rain. “Alright, sweetie,” he cooed, gently touching your arm. “All we need is to get you out of those dirty clothes and you’re set.”

The way he said it was so tender, that the context that would usually make you cringe with a mix of shock and underlying lust that you refuse to admit to, just made you raise an eyebrow in some sort of retaliation.

“Now that just won’t do,” he said, crossing his arms, really sounding like your mother now. “Snip snap. Your bath will turn cold.”

For some reason, the feeling of being an eighteen year old about to be molested on the first day of adulthood shifting into the horrible primal feeling of being a seven year old child domestically bullied by your father a few hours earlier, and finally landing to your current emotion of being lovingly scolded by a doting mother is making you feel so small... and yet so loved.

You sighed deeply and pouted as you slowly slipped out of your shoes, kicking them to the side of the door as Tom gently smiled at your prepubescent behaviour, watching as you shuffle past him and into the steam-infested bathroom.

You were about to slip out of your pants out of habit when you realized he was still in front of you, waiting. Suddenly feeling that filter of indifference drift from your aura and slowly soaking you in awkwardness, you froze in your spot and muttered, “Uh... could you close the door?”

Tom chuckled.

“Please?”

Sensing the urgency in your voice, he raised his hands and stepped back, gently closing it. When you were sure that he wasn’t peeking, you let out a soft sigh as you unzipped your jeans and gingerly slipped the fabric down your legs. Getting back into an upright position with a huff, you turn around to check again if the pervert was peeping through the door, only to find it sealed and closed. Thinking that he probably went back into the living room to mind his own business, you decided to completely get naked.

However, the moment you tried to lift your hoodie and shirt over your head, a deluge of searing pain coursed down your arms and your back.

“Aaaaaaaa...” Tom then heard your squeaky voice from beyond the bathroom door. “A little help please?”

He was clearly trying to hide a triumphant smile (another version of his “I-told-you-so” grin) as he opened the door and walked through it, coming face to face to see your pleading face stuck between the tent of your hoodie, your underwear exposed in the process. At this point you weren’t really in the mood to blush anymore, since you were in a tight spot and there was really just one person who could help you who was trying to stifle those sniggers in the process.

But the moment he saw what was underneath your shirt, the moment he peeled off both articles of clothing from your head and your arms, the stifled laughter from his throat and that bubbly personality faded away.

He didn’t say anything, but you heard one definitive gasp.

You were too tired to explain the bruises that decorated your shoulder, some of the marks trailing down to your exposed hip. The discoloration matched the darkness around your eye and there were scratches found on your ribs, your arms, among other places. As his eyes travelled downwards, the man couldn’t help but clench his jaw as he folded your thick hoodie, watching you cautiously as you stepped back, now only clad in your underwear, as you held your battered body.

“Thank you,” you said in a sheepish and monotonous tone, avoiding his piercing eyes. You stood there awkwardly, as you finally found your courage to look up at him only to see a genuine yet mischievous tiny smile painted on that handsome face.

You were surprised how the awkward tension concerning your bruises dissipated, only to be replaced by another kind of tension that seemed so... familiar. It was unusually comfortable despite the state you are in and how you always recognized it.

“What?”

For the first time that day, you heard a tiny laugh that escaped the man – a sound that was supposedly mocking to you on days before this very encounter now sounded comforting, like church bells ringing.

“Why so shy,” there was a gentle roughness in his voice that made you swear that _if you were in the right mood_ , you would have melted on the spot. But like clockwork, you chastised yourself, reminding yourself of the limitations you have set between you and your professor-friend. “You know I’ve seen it all before...”

You could not deny that your face turned red as you watched him flick his tongue to run it against his lower lip, that cheeky grin still on his lips. But that demeanor of his slowly faded away as you cast your eyes away and held your arms tightly.

“Please!”

Tom suddenly remembered how sensitive you were when it came to this kind of teasing, especially with what happened to you. He had to remind himself that things weren’t like as they were before and that you needed to be treated with utmost respect if he wanted them to return to the way they were. _And we were already making so much progress_ , he thought sadly, though that melancholy did not appear in that small smile he flashed you. He persuaded himself silently to stop pushing, to minimize his impish comments, and, at least for the time being, to keep you at arm’s length.

“Alright,” he said, raising his hands and turning around. “Alright, I won’t look.”

You felt yourself blow a gust of air as you drop your hands, as you found yourself looking at his broad back as he strolled towards the bathroom door. But as he suddenly turned to smile at you, you tried to make yourself look decent once more, even if the blush on your cheeks was definitely giving you away.

“But do consider my offer in the faculty room earlier,” he said with a bit of uncertainty on those lips despite of the bright grin.

Hugging yourself tighter, you asked with a raised eyebrow, “What was that?”

He turned to face you as you found yourself backing towards that beautifully installed marble-white bathtub, a contrasting piece in that whole bathroom that was marbled black. The moment the back of your thighs hit the edge of the square tub, you felt yourself gasp.

The man couldn’t help but chuckle at the adorable expression of yours. But his face turned serious. “Please consider my help if you need it, and do not be shy to ask for it,” he whispered softly, but firmly enough for you to hear as you watched the graceful creature reach out for the bathroom door, in a gesture of closing it. “Especially with,” as his eyes worriedly glazed over your feeble figure, as your breath hitched. “Arms as sore as that.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer as he closed the door, considering the flabbergasted look on your face, but you were in the middle of finding something witty to answer like you always did – but for the record, the man has left you completely speechless as of this moment.

You were in the middle of trying to figure out the undertones hidden in those words he left you, but then you had to stop yourself remembering those words he said to you before you both left the campus grounds.

“ _For once let me help you._ ” His words echoed in your brain that was as empty as that beautiful bathroom you were standing in. “ _And for once, please don’t refuse it or refute it or demean it._ ”

Shaking your head, you turn around to face that warm and comforting steam rising out of the bath that was carefully prepared for you. Letting your underwear slip on the floor, you prepared to take a little dip.

Outside, your professor-friend ran a hand through his hair, inspecting every nook and cranny in his house, wondering how to make it even more presentable considering that he had a new roommate. He had always prepared for days when you’d be staying over, and contract-duties present or not, he was more than happy to make the flat comfortable for you in hopes of bringing back those old times when you’d be there with your best-friend, sleeping over with your then-boyfriend after an event that you all attended.

He was tidying up some dishes and cleaning out the oven that he was planning to use very soon for another baking project, when he heard the telltale squeak of the bathroom door opening, causing him to pop up his curly-haired head out of the kitchen to see what it was.

“Tom?” A small voice came from the bathroom. “I –”

You found yourself sighing as you peeked through the small opening that you made with the bathroom door, considering that you were completely naked and dripping as you feebly stepped out of the tub, realizing that your friend was right – your arms and your shoulder hurt too much for you to properly scrub yourself. How much more with the task of shampooing your hair?

“I need your help,” you mutter with a defeated tone.

Your professor-friend then stepped back from his kitchen work with a small smile spreading across his lips.

 

***

 

The moment you recognized that small nod as a concession to your request, you quickly made your way back into the tub without closing the door, leaving wet footsteps behind you. By the time Tom had entered the steamy bathroom, you made sure that you were already submerged in the tub, your shoulders hunched from all the aching suddenly activated by the hot water, your damp and moist hair falling on your shoulders, hovering above the water.

As you quietly waited, your host did not make a sound as he approached a small cabinet on the side of the sink and pulled out a still-packaged pink loofa, freeing it from it confines before grabbing a body wash just on top of a marble surface attachment filled with bath items and making his way towards you.

Peering through your wet hair, you didn’t have enough time to assess why the man had a collection of bath products at his expense. Your breath hitched completely as you watched the man fold himself right in front of you and into a kneeling position, as those insightful blue eyes flicked the body wash cap open with a finger and started squeezing a good amount of lather onto that flowery-looking loofa.

Lucky for you, he wasn’t burning your eyes down as expected, but rather worriedly glancing at the discolorations on your shoulder that your hair is trying to hide.

“Tell me if I’m too rough,” he spoke to you as you watched those long fingers wounding themselves around the bath sponge, seemingly strangling it as you were hypnotized by the foam slowly seeping out of his hands. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

You would be kicking yourself later for letting your mind wander as you watched that arm with the rolled up sleeves flex and release as he prepared the sponge for you, before it slowly registered in your mind that he’d be running it all over _your naked skin_.

“Are you listening to me, pumpkin?”

You snapped out of your trance with only one eye peeking from beneath your wet hair as you looked up at the man and said, “Uh – yeah –”

Despite the water being warm enough, you couldn’t understand the goosebumps covering your skin as he tenderly moved back the hair covering your face and tucking it behind your ears, as you got a full-shot of those empathetic blue eyes as he leaned forward and gently pressed the sponge against the crook of your shoulder.

You felt yourself wince.

Tom found himself gritting his teeth, as he tried to evade the bruised parts of your body, wondering if he was rubbing too hard. He clamped the edge of the tub to get a better access to you as he positioned himself behind you by kneeling outside the tub, with that powerful hand of his slowly releasing the reinforced white steel of the bath to lightly grip your shoulder as you felt the loofa dip downwards the curve of your back.

“Aaahhhhh...” you found yourself moaning quietly, only to cause the man to stop with his arm now half soaked underneath the water.

Tom almost jumped. “Did I hurt you?” The apprehension in his voice was imminent. “I’m sorry.”

You found yourself closing your eyes as a small smile appeared on your lips, mostly out of surprise with the way he responded in such a candid manner. “No,” you breathed, the way your lungs emptied themselves visibly shaking your body as you find yourself leaning into his touch. “No, it’s alright, it's...”

You didn’t see how his eyes fluttered.

You heard the loofa drop into the water.

Your own eyes fluttered open unceremoniously as you awkwardly looked behind you, wondering what you might have said wrong that pushed the man to stop that heavenly thing he was already doing.

“What’s wrong?”

To your surprise, you felt your entire body stiffen as you watched the man roll his sleeves up his veined arms even further, before bending over to fold his pants up to his knees, baring those shiny shins that probably never saw the light of day unless he was busy running in shorts in the nearby park at least five times a week.

“Just trying to get a better reach –” he said with a tiny strain in his voice as you felt the water around you shift, with the man dipping his toe right behind you forcing you to move forward, eyes completely wide as saucers with the thought that _Tom was actually joining you in the bath_. “I can’t keep kneeling the entire time you know.” You could hear the smile at the end of that sentence as you felt him settle behind you, comfortably sitting on the rim of the tub as the water rose almost up to his knees.

You tried not to look as he dipped his hand behind you again, picking up that abandoned sponge, as he took it out of the water to lather it up with the body wash once more.

The moment the loofa and his fingers made contact with your skin again, you forgot about everything else.

He was gentle as promised, but he seemed to be applying a bit of pressure with his fingers on your other bare shoulder as well, massaging you with a bit of lather with his free hand. You closed your eyes and just shut out the horrified voices that were supposed to be logical in your brain (or once logical), as you found yourself leaning back and surrendering completely to the way he softly kneaded your unbruised skin as he dipped his hands lower, covering every part of your body that needed to be washed.

You completely ignored the fact that his hand had completely passed past your cleavage, or how he lowered himself a bit into the water to get a better access; ignored how how you leaned against his shirt and pants completely drenching him as well. All you could think of at that moment was how the water felt so warm, how his hands were so smooth and gentle, how the soap was making you feel fuzzy inside, and how those fingers ran itself gently on your thighs, up your hips, and back up on your abdomen.

It was a glorious experience, a gloriously therapeutic experience.

Until he had to stop.

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the man move from behind your back, returning to the marbled bathroom floor with water pooling around his feet. You watched him with awe, part of you afraid that the intimate therapy you were being treated to was about to stop. To your surprise, he sat on the other edge of the tub and held out his free hand to you.

“Your foot please.”

You didn’t know if it was his voice, the comfortable feeling of security brought about by the steamy environment, or the way he ran his fingers along with the sponge as he bathed you, but you found yourself complying without any hesitation as you took your foot out of the water and gently slipped it into his waiting hand.

When he ran the sponge along the sole of your foot with his fingers gently holding your ankle, you sank lower into the water, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You didn’t see him lick his lips as you were unable to control yourself from moaning, as he slipped the sponge down your leg, making something _in you twitch_ underneath all that water.

He did the same to the other foot, but this time you were completely leaning back against the smooth and warm tub, your eyes closed with your lips parted. You weren’t able to see the way he licked his lips as he did his job, those eyes now free to roam as it pleases, seemingly trying to peer underneath the water without receiving your trademarked glare that seemed to be always judging him.

By the time he stopped, you awoke with a start when he dropped the loofa underneath the water, with a thought suddenly occurring in your mind.

You opened your eyes just to see him reaching for this shampoo at the edge of the tub when you quickly sat up and said, “No –”

Tom blinked in your direction as he watched you wince as you tried to reach for the shampoo yourself.

“I –” you tried to find your words as you found that worried expression forming on that face once more, making something floating inside of you sink. “I think I can do this myself.”

The man was wearing a frown now. “But, darling,” he protested as he sat there, soap up to his arms and his otherwise crisp and clean shirt and pants now drenched with water. “Your arms.”

You winced as you wrapped your hands around the bottle and pulled it off the rack.

“You’ve done enough.” You shook your head, not just as a gesture but as an attempt to wake yourself up from that erotic spell he seemed to have put on you. What horrified (and delighted) you was the fact that you _actually liked it_. “No,” you breathed. “You’ve done so much.”

“Sweetie...”

You tried to smile at him, the sweetest one you can muster. After everything he has done for you that day, and what you promised yourself as he chastised you for holding him back from helping you, the least you can do was show him the sweetness he deserved. And God, did your heart flutter while doing it.

“Women like shampooing their hair,” you said with a bit of a little giggle, trying to avoid the way he dotingly stared at you. “Let me at least do my favourite part of showering.”

To your surprise, the man leaned back on his seat with this curious look on his face, a silent response in agreement to your claim. After all, he’s getting so much more than he bargained for – getting the chance to watch you bathe yourself, something he never experienced.

 _As perverted as he always seemed to be, that doesn’t seem to be the case now_ , you said inside your head as you found your arms actually aching as you flipped the cap open, ready to squeeze a good amount on your open hand. _And seriously,_ you can hear your brain scream as you gritted your teeth trying to get your limbs to work properly. _Am I actually enjoying this?_

 _Women like shampooing their hair, my ass_ , you thought. That was a whopper of a lie. There was no way in hell you would let Thomas actually touch your scalp at this point. Not because you were some vain crude woman who only let their hair dressers do it. You’re not some sort of celebrity who can afford that. The truth was, your scalp is very sensitive to a point that you consider it an erogenous zone once massaged. Your ex used to do this for you and every time he did it in the shower you end up being pounded and hammered against the wall since you couldn’t help sucking his cock or his nipples after he completed the task for you.

And after everything Tom has done at this point?

You were actually so wet underneath all that water that you were so scared that you may not be able to stop yourself from pulling him in the tub – clothed or unclothed – and banging him like crazy like the last time you got drunk.

If you only weren’t unbearably sore.

What more if those talented fingers managed to touch your hair?

This is the reason why you were gritting your teeth as you tried to get some undiluted shampoo on your hand. However, the more you tried to concentrate, the more your bruised muscles began to hurt.

You attempted to raise your now lathered hands up on your head, ignoring the way your professor-friend seemed to be enjoying all of this as he sat on the edge of the tub; but with one quick movement you felt electricity course through your arms as you yelped in pain, automatically grabbing your shoulders the instant they ached with a pang that you could not forget.

The man stood up with a flash and grabbed both of your hands, before gently transferring whatever was left of the lathered liquid on your fingers to his.

By the time you have opened your eyes and have recovered from that pang that coursed through your body, you found yourself no longer leaning against the cold metallic slab that made up the tub, but once again against a set of firm abdominals thinly covered by a now-damp blue shirt.

“I’m sorry, darling,” you heard his deep and raspy voice right above you as your eyes widened upon hearing those fingers slick with the soap about to be rubbed into your hair. “But I may have to temporarily take this small pleasure of yours away from you.”

You heard him lick his lips. “It’s for your own good too, you know.”

That was when you felt his long digits dip into the tresses of your hair, causing your mind to black out once again as you let out a sound that would have sounded so obscene if you paid attention how it left your mouth. Tom however, had no qualms about it. If he had any, it was the fact that the sounds you were making as he massaged the solution into your hair was making him twitch with so much frustration that he swore he had to do something about it later while you were fast asleep in the bed he made for you.

The manner, the way he managed to thread the shampoo into your hair, was completely different from the way he was scrubbing you earlier. The way your tresses twisted and melded with his gorgeously dextrous fingers, slick and slipping against his soaped hands, just completely threw you into a state of complete rest and pleasure that you felt yourself sinking against his body as he managed to do the deed, almost rendering you into a blubbering mess melting into the tub.

He was good; he was so talented that you wondered if your zany professor-friend ever considered an alternate career as a hair-dresser. But you would admit that your own hair-dresser just across town had the same skill like this, but he couldn’t elicit this kind of reaction from you – and the fact that your face was almost contorted into something close to an actual climax. Luckily, Tom was busy playing the part to even notice what was going on with you, or else the story might have ended differently.

But the man knew his boundaries, and he knew it was not the night or day for it. But with the way you seemingly just melted into his hands like chocolate on a summer’s day gave him so much pride and comfort with the fact that you have finally found the peace you had been searching for since the night of the opera and he found himself smiling to realize that he was more than happy to become that safe haven he always wanted for you.

You were submerged into your own little world filled with clouds and steamed water that you didn’t notice how his hands now dipped from the tangle of soapy hair above your head... only to brush those travelling digits against the column of your neck, those long fingers tracing your collarbones and the contour of your shoulders.

You felt yourself gasp and refused to open your eyes as those same fingers rose higher, smothering your entire jawline with soap, as you felt your face being turned in a certain direction.

Your eyes fluttered open only to find a pair of parted lips close to yours, almost threatening towards a kiss.

You gulped audibly as you completely regained your vision, finding your host completely entranced by the experience as well, looking at you with hooded eyes as he tilted your now soaped-face towards his, getting a good view of how much _you enjoyed all of this_.

“Will this do for you?” Even the deep-silky voice of his couldn’t help you hide from what you were feeling now.

You parted your own lips, unsure of what was about to escape your bated breath.

“ _Yes_ ,” you gasped, as if you were being chased and were out of breath.

This was too much – _too much to your liking_. If this happened weeks ago, two things might have happened: you would have either screamed at his face to get his dirty hands off you or you would have pulled him in and fucked him on the spot until he was limp and dry.

But in that moment, you were neither mad nor horny.

You were just... entranced.

And this was visible to your professor-friend since a knowing smile suddenly appeared on Tom’s lips... only for those deep blue eyes to be clouded with another emotion as the smile slowly melted into another that was similar to the passion etched against your face as you watched him part his lips and lean closer...

At this point you didn’t care.

Your body was at a state of rest and pleasure, you didn’t give a damn if he smothered your face and gave you what you wanted. He was so close to doing it anyway, and you were now counting in your head the days that passed since you last kissed those lips and you realize after that you _never thought of him that way before_.

To your surprise he jerked towards you with a start, with his mouth never touching yours as you watched him clench his jaw.

You felt a bit of pressure around your jaw as you felt him gently pinch your cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, before gently running down a trail of soap on the side of your face.

He gasped before closing his mouth and then a gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Time to rinse up,” he exclaimed as he shifted against you, his body brushing against your bare back. “And get into a bathrobe quick since it’s a bit cold outside.”

As the man stepped out of the tub, you tried to hide the dismay on your face, wishing he’d stay submerged partly in the bath with you after that _fruitful_ experience. But there was no way in hell you’d admit how much you enjoyed that even if your body seemed to betray you during the entire duration of it.

“You can do it by yourself now, sweetie?” He exclaimed, handing you the attached shower hose on the side of the tub.

You found yourself smiling at him in reply as you took it, which earned you a gleeful grin back.

Tom dipped his hand inside the water again, brushing his fingers lightly against your soaked foot, as you began to carefully run the shower over places you can reach. As for your hair, you plan to submerge your entire head in the water once he’s gone and probably scream your frustration out as bubbles underneath the tub. While you were trying to find a way to deal with your newfound sexual frustration, you find him retrieving that pink loofa from the bottom of the tub.

“This,” he exclaimed as-a-matter-of-factly, “is now yours.” He then gingerly placed it on the rack beside a blue one, which you assumed his. “You’re free to use my shampoo for as long as you want,” he continued as he flipped the cap and gave it a sniff. “Unless you want to smell like peppermint for a long time.”

You try to giggle subtly to no avail, as you realize where the smell now comes from.

To your surprise, he reached under the water again and gave your sole a little swipe with his finger, causing you to giggle louder. Once your vision cleared from the laughing fit brought about by the tickling fiend, you found him wearing a devilish smile on his face.

“Don’t stay in the bath too long,” he said endearingly as he set a clean white bathrobe on a chair near the tub. “Your fingers will wrinkle.”

You smile to yourself as you watched him walk out of the door.

“Yes, sir.”

 

 

***

 

 

You found yourself staring into the mirror in your room, absentmindedly brushing your hair, waiting for it to dry.

You couldn’t help but think how emotionally wrecked this entire day was, not to mention the entire week you’ve been through. The day started in shame and guilt and somehow ended up light-hearted and comforting, making you wonder how you managed to save yourself from possibly spiralling down a fit of depression if you haven’t gotten yourself out of that pit sooner.

But it was a first step – your escape from the man with the abusive hand was your ticket out, despite sinking down to your lowest lows as you resolved to use the Restricted Section as your temporary haven.

And yet you still try to evade that one main cause why you are suddenly far from the brink of trouble, brushing your hair in silence after a nice warm bath with a somewhat permanent roof over your head; instead of crying in someone else’s bed, unable to nurse scars on your body and in your psyche that you could never erase.

Your strokes slowly come to a halt as you try to think about what your friend had done for you so far.

You were slowly coming to terms that maybe Tom is the knight-in-shining-armor you always asked for, though the little mischievous voice inside your head told you to make sure he doesn’t hear you say that out loud or it’ll get to his head. His mere presence suddenly provided security and comfort for you, something you had not ever considered.

And yet, whatever happened in the tub tonight seemed to be more than the ease and safety you sought, as you were once again forced to face those brimming feelings inside of you that you have tried to crush since day one.

You close your eyes remembering his fingers in your hair...

There was something – you didn’t know if _he had changed_ , or it was _you whose point of view had changed_ – but there was something about him that gave you so much joy at that exact moment when your feelings of trust and relief have melded with that warm bubbly feeling inside of you when his fingers touched your skin.

But something, there was something within you that felt so good that you wouldn’t mind living with this feeling for a very long time... even if parts of it dreaded you, and parts of it were subject to your refusal to recognize it; you found yourself willing to let it sit inside your heart undisturbed, letting it be until you decide that you have enough courage to properly recognize what it was.

You were in the middle of your reflections when you heard a knock on the door.

Quickly sitting up, you heard a voice from the outside saying, “May I come in?”

Quickly giving your damp hair a few strokes, you straightened up on the bed and shifted from a cross-legged position to something seemingly more presentable, as you eventually replied, “Sure Tom, the door’s unlocked.”

You saw a head of gold curls peek for a while, before completely opening the door as the rest of the body popped in – now dressed in a thin white shirt and blue striped pajamas. You had to stop yourself from either raising an eyebrow or letting a smile creep across your face because seriously, this was the first time you saw him so unbelievably domesticated in a sense that he looked like a dork about to go into his Star Wars sheets and watch some cartoons before bed. This was far from that sex-crazed pervert that you thought you unleashed during the start of the contract. It didn’t help that his round rimmed glasses were sitting on his nose as he approached you with a small bashful smile, holding something in his hand.

“Feeling comfy?”

You shrugged your shoulders, ignoring the small bit of pain as you crossed your legs yet again and continued brushing your hair in front of him. “Yeah, I would say so...” you say quietly, trying to avoid his gaze, afraid of how you would react if you looked into those eyes.

The man twiddled with his long fingers and adorably scrunched his nose, as he seemingly played with this small bottle in his hands while he found himself leaning against a chair. “That’s great...”

You suddenly let out this small sigh as you find yourself putting the comb down and looking at your bare feet, thinking of taking advantage of the awkward silence for once. This wasn’t first time it was completely awkward between you and the Professor; there had been several occasions of these before your need of the Scholarship and while he was still in a relationship with your best friend. But these awkward moments seem to be heavier and more gruelling to deal with compared with those that you’ve had with him before.

 _Maybe it’s because it’s the gravity of the situation?_ You think. _Or maybe because this time I know that I owe him more than what is usually intended and I’m starting to realize it and I need to pay what is due..._

You shake your head at your thoughts, trying to find your words so you can end the silence. _Nothing is due,_ you said inside your head. _Nothing has to be paid back. I just..._ You find yourself looking up at the man who seemed to be trying to find the words to say as well, adjusting those thick glasses as he twiddled with the bottle of yellow liquid in those big hands.

“I –“ You started, somewhat startling Thomas. “I’d like to thank you for today.”

The way he looked at you made something inside you burn. The fire you felt was something warm that it somewhat temporarily erased that feeling of uselessness and contempt within you that had been slowly eating up at what’s left of your pride and hope for the past week. He blinked softly and parted his lips, seemingly waiting for you to continue. This brought a smile to your lips as you looked down to discover your hands playing with your comb as you resumed your speech.

“I – I would still be in the library if you haven’t found me. I don’t know where else I would have gone...”

There was still that pain of abandonment inside of you and the mounting problems of your fees, your bills, and your immediate needs of a roof over your head and some food. In fact, you had a ton of problems to deal with that was temporarily put on hold as you sleep tonight in a warm bed and in a safe house. You knew you had to face these monsters in the morning.

The Professor raised an eyebrow upon hearing what you had to say, before adorably scrunching his nose and crossing his arms. “Are you still going to ignore the fact that I have clearly stated that you can live here indefinitely?” There was a tender smile on his face that was why you knew he wasn’t being snarky. If he was, it wasn’t intended to hurt you.

You mirrored his expression and scrunch up your nose as well as you candidly scratch a part of your head with your comb. “Well...”

 _"Mi casa es su casa,"_ he said with such flair, throwing his hands about like a true drama artist. "My home is your home now."

The way he said it was so charming for a man of his stature and awkwardness, even if you knew he wasn’t usually that lanky or gawky most of the time. In fact, he exuded an air of regality of some sort whenever he’s out and about, especially when he was teaching, topped off with a charm that would knock ladies and men alike off their feet. But this was the first time you saw him that relaxed and so silly after a very long time, ever since he became single again.

“Are you sure?” You felt yourself whisper, looking up at him as if asking a plea.

Tom’s eyes softened. “Of course,” he exclaimed as he straightened up from his position, making his way towards you in one long stride as he sat beside you on the bed.

He was sitting so close to you that all you had to do was turn your face to your side and you would be nose to nose. You would have cleared your throat at this point, but the position and the closeness felt so comfortable this time around that you find yourself just retaining the position as you gratefully peered in those blue eyes as you find yourself willingly smiling at him.

The man’s cheeks turned red as he jerked back and cleared his throat. “Oh right,” he started, fidgeting with the bottle he was holding again. Unfortunate for him as he didn’t see you hide a bigger smile as you pressed your lips against your comb as you looked away, biting your lips. “This,” he gestured to the bottle. “Is the reason why I wanted to give you a little visit before bedtime.”

You blink at the golden-fluid that filled the small case. “What is it?”

The man uncorked the bottle and gently rubbed some on his hands. “It’s a rubbing salve,” he explained, showing you how it coated his fingers. It was a thin coat, but it smelled heavenly, filling the room with herbs and florals. The smell enveloped your room and you couldn’t help thinking about gardens and clouds at the exact moment it filled your nose. “I can assure you that this will help with your little aches and bruises. A small amount of it after every bath would do the trick.” He turned to grin at you. “Want to give it a try?”

You scrunched your nose at him as a doting gesture. “Sure,” you exclaimed, putting your comb down as you hold out your hand to him. “I’ll give it a shot.”

To your surprise, he stood up and knelt on the bed, hovering over you. You found the towering man putting down the now-corked bottle on the surface of your sheets as he lathered his fingers with the amount of liquid on his free hand. He gestured with a small nod towards your shoulder before softly saying, “May I?”

You never saw his breath hitch as you willingly and obediently nodded, pulling your loose shirt over one bruised shoulder. You instinctively draw back your hair as you positioned the bare shoulder over to him, turning around to settle in a position where your back was to him.

The way he applied the salve wasn’t any different from the way he ran the sponge over your bare back. He really had a way with his hands. He kneaded his fingers gently as he let the oils mingle with your broken skin, providing a cool, soothing feeling instead of an itching pang that often comes with wounds such as what you had.

You parted your lips as he gently lifted your other sleeve, slipping his hands underneath the fabric so he can massage your other shoulder. The mingled pressures as he played about with his fingers, applying a bit of weight here and a bit of pressing there, slowly removed all the aches you had in your body as you allowed him to give you the relaxation you always sought without knowing that this was what you were always looking for.

Gently lifting his hands from your shoulders and moving back the hem of your shirt with un-oiled fingers in fear of staining them. The man moved back to survey his work only to find you sleepily opening your eyes as if you were gently waking up from a dream.

“You should lie down,” he said breathily, a gentle hand guiding you to recline on the surface of the bed.

Without any retort you followed his gentle commands. You looked up at him only to find a serious expression painted on his face as he straightened up the shirt you were wearing, before hesitantly removing his hands from your body to quietly sit down beside you with those deep blue eyes still surveying your face, watching and waiting for a response.

“Comfy?”

You smiled as you take one of the pillows he laid out for you from your side, hugging it up to your chest. You looked up at him and saw the same smile appear upon his face, looking like the sun that just appeared at the break of dawn which was supposedly several hours from that moment.

“Yes,” you said in such a contented manner that it sounded more like a sigh.

Tom’s eyes were hooded now as he subtly placed a hand on your arm, his fingers gently stroking your skin. For some reason this gesture was lulling you towards sleep, and the aches and burns of your wounds that used to keep you up for nights on end has started to fade away.

The man then quietly withdrew his hand from yours as he muttered, “Let me just tuck you in,” before pulling the duvet from under your feet and placing it over your body that was close to slumber. For some reason, his presence and his doting hospitality was making your heart swell with feelings you couldn’t understand at that moment, but what you could remember at that point in time was how you felt so tranquil… _and so happy_.

He sat beside you for a while, seemingly watching your face as you fell asleep. What he was thinking as he sat there, his now-dry hand still clutching the bottle of salve and his other lying on the duvet near yours, was something you could not decipher as your own consciousness was fading away with the smell of fragrances, spices, and for some reason, peppermint.

Tom eventually stood up when he believed you had fallen asleep, as he placed the bottle of salve on the nightstand beside you, before making his way towards the door before turning off the lights.

“Goodnight,” he gently whispered to the darkness, not expecting it to answer.

To his surprise, you let out a soft, “Goodnight, Tom,” before turning over to your side, completely succumbing to sleep.

 

 

***

 

 

He didn’t go to sleep right away as expected, as he returned to his room and gave his mirror a quick glance the moment he opened the lights. The Professor’s mirror was old-fashioned, nailed on wood and attached to a dresser with old ornate designs dating back to several decades ago. But true to an artist’s workstation, it was covered with creative clutter, with a few pictures slipped into cracks and writings pinned and taped to the sides as he pleases.

There were pictures of him and his family, a few old photographs of himself and his sisters, while there are some pictures of ideas and personas that motivated him to reach his goal in the future: these personas being in literature, theatre, or the like.

At a certain corner of his mirror, was an empty space lined with fading marks of a tape – an indication that something was attached there before. It was just beside a picture of the Professor as a child, a bumbling baby boy with wild golden hair, wearing a T-Rex shirt that he coveted from a long time ago.

He found himself running his fingers against the sticky edges of the empty outline, seemingly deep in thought. Whether it was about the missing item that used to occupy the space, we’d never know.

But then the Professor opened a drawer on the dresser below and picked up a blue post-its note pad, with his eyes still fixed to the hollow sticky rectangle on his mirror. He can see his blue eye peering from the empty space, as he smiled back at his reflection as he licked his lips and picked up a pen.

He was seemingly scribbling in his fine (yet sometimes illegible) handwriting on the small blue paper, filling it with a single-lined inscription also scrawled in blue ink.

Carefully, he delicately peeled the sheet from the entire wad with his fingers. He looked at the inscription for a bit, with the smile on his lips growing into a beautiful beam that lit up his face. Picking up a roll of tape from the same compartment where he took the blue post-its, he attached it to the surface of the mirror, biting his lip as he did this mundane last-minute task before bed.

Those blue-eyes read the inscription again, now easy for him to survey whenever he would wake up and get ready for work. He couldn’t help but smile brightly once again as he walked away from it, satisfied with how it was attached to his mirror.

He knew this inscription by heart, having heard it before. An old Arabic proverb, he would say if anyone would ask.

The inscription?

 

“ _Come live in my heart and pay no rent.”_

 

 

 


	19. A Happily Burned Soufflé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amidst the peace and the silence your gracious host has provided you, you are determined to give the Professor a heartfelt treat of your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Wolfie](iamthebadwolf85.tumblr.com) for proofing this chapter! *hugs*

****For a few days, you found peace.

There was a long string of holidays keeping you homebound and it gave you enough time to recover and rest after the unfortunate experience with Mattie. Campus grounds were closed, and the services that you needed most – such as the library – were out of bounds.

Your professors were kind enough to leave you some work before the holidays and you found yourself in dire need of resources so you would finish your reports on time. There was the Internet, but there is always something comforting about musty paperbacks, the expanded auxiliary sections of old books, and the silence that only the library provided.

But considering it has only been a weekend ever since your little “nervous breakdown” that was easily averted thanks to a certain educator you knew, the idea of escaping the confines of your current living space seemed like an insult to your gracious host. And to think about it, Tom had been more than gracious for the past two days you were acting like an invisible tenant in his room, running on a clockwork and tight schedule just so you wouldn’t have to bump into him and have an awkward confrontation, even after what happened in the bathroom.

You ensured that showers were taken early in the mornings so you wouldn’t get in his way. Also in this manner, you managed to bypass the painful procedure of cleaning your injured joints without asking for assistance, not wanting _that incident_ to happen again. After all, you knew _the worst that could possibly happen_ if you allow that man’s fingers to touch your skin once more…

You shudder with delight (that you repeatedly deny to yourself) just thinking of it.

Breakfasts were consumed in a deli near campus so he didn’t have a reason to waste time making you one. Well, at least what you thought to be a waste of time for him. You would receive kind texts asking if you would be joining him for dinner at the flat and you would kindly decline saying you already did, thinking that maybe you weren’t ready to face your benefactor after what had happened, yet you feel guilty and obliged to since he took you under his wing…

For some reason, you felt like you just couldn’t win and you had to do this correctly.

_You knew it was time treat Tom right for a change._

Following this train of thought, you decided to be less crude than the last time. Maybe it was a bit more than that since you willingly made the extra effort not to be. And this means coming home for the past few nights with desserts that you gladly shared with him over tea.

On the first night it was a box that contained two slices of cheesecakes that made your shoulders ache as you had to haul it up the stairs in those two bags, even when it was supposedly light. (After all, your bruises weren’t that forgiving after the first day of recuperation.) On the second night, you made it a point to go the way almost to the edge of town to visit that pretty donut shop with the rare variety of flavors just so you could bring home two dozen. Unfortunately, you were so sore the moment you got home that your host was more worried about how you slumped on his couch than focusing on his treats.

Of course, Tom was grateful. Probably more than grateful.

There was something in the way he smiled as he sampled your treats, clearly trying to stop himself from fussing over you as you subtly tried to hide the pain caused by your injuries. He clearly looked so pleased with the sweets that were willingly brought to his table, and yet you couldn’t admit that these treats were the least you can do to start thanking him for the kindness he showed you. A kindness that you refused to see for the longest time.

You couldn’t admit the truth that none of these treats lived up to the quality he could actually dish out. You only realized this as you took a bite of those sweets that you shared with him in silence, unsure of what to say, and somewhat in awe with how he still managed to enjoy the pastries that you brought to the table. A small voice in your brain quietly reprimanded you for buying him donuts, reminding you of how embarrassed you look giving him something he could technically what he could create, even though these came from 4-star café and shops around town.

You told yourself not to embarrass yourself the same way again. This is _Tom_ after all.

The voice in your head then suggested that you stop declining his offers of dinner.

That’s when you found yourself waking up on a Monday morning, a beautiful holiday, trying to plan your way through the day without stepping all over your host’s feet while allowing you to accomplish what was needed to be done.

 _And no more random pastry shops_ , you chastised yourself in silence.

 

 

***

 

 

While you let your head float around pastries, coffee, dinner, and the like, you opened your laptop only to be reminded of the big paper you should finish before the week ends.

It just so happened that your Film Analysis professor had quite a sense of humor. Out of all the research topics that you submitted to her, she had to approve the one where you had to discuss the role of femininity and its response to romance in Audrey Hepburn’s movies. Of all things, you had to do a comparative paper on _Audrey Hepburn_.

Not that it was a challenge; you were well versed in Ms. Hepburn’s more obscure films.  It was her most famous ones with which you were unfamiliar. Well, not all of them. You remember watching “Roman Holiday” drunk with your cousins on _your own holiday_ , falling asleep before the famous _Bocca della Verità_ scene. You remember watching “Funny Face” as a child with your mother, but all you did was dance to Jo Stockton’s interpretative 60s exhibition the entire time. You probably tried Astaire’s leaps once or twice, only for your face to land on the floor. Luckily, it was one minor split lip.

Scratching your head, fingers threading in your slightly damp hair as you didn’t even bother to blow dry it after your bath, you found yourself gathering your feet up as you sat cross legged on the chair, staring at your laptop. You really weren’t planning to cover _all_ of Hepburn’s movies, but you knew that you could at least discuss the _famous_ ones.

You found yourself pulling out your external hard-drive from your backpack and reviewing the “MOVIES” folder for the films you already had.

You didn’t have to worry about _Love in the Afternoon_ , you probably watched that once or twice during the early days of the classic movie binge you had with your exes. You don’t mind watching it again.

 _Roman Holiday_ would be on top of the list, but considering you’ve already got it on stock you could watch it anytime.

 _Funny Face_ was also on the list, though it was a low-quality copy. You may have to look for or download a new version. However, it’s just going to be a peek and a reference in your paper, you may not have to download a 1080p copy. Then again you haven’t properly watched this one.

There was _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_. You needed to watch that.

You survey the rest of the list, thinking of the beautiful love stories that were constant topics at dinner with your film-loving relatives that included your mom, or those conversations randomly dropped over snack breaks amongst office co-workers or your own post-grad friends. You believed that you’ve got enough movies to rewatch, quote and discuss as you looked at the open window on your laptop. You could easily lay back, watch the day go by, as you sneakily go out of your professor-friend’s flat to nab some chips or chocolates from the nearest convenience store and just work on your paper. Or hang out in a café. Or something.

You thought you were going to have a relaxing weekend until you looked up Hepburn’s whole filmography.

“ _Sabrina_ ,” youmutter worriedly as you return to your open window of stored films, running painstakingly on that humming external hard drive that sounded as if it were to go bust very soon.

There was no mention of the 1954 film.

In fact, you wondered why you didn’t have it.

You have watched the 1995 version with Harrison Ford, but it lay forgotten playing in the background as you worked on plates and presentations with your old Uni friends, all of these simultaneously due for the next day. You remember asking your friend for a copy, but it lay forgotten somewhere… in your files… in your old PC… that died five or six years ago.

You looked up from your computer, tapping the surface of the steel interface, thinking of how on Earth would you get a copy of the movie. In fact, you suddenly became so curious about _how a mousy little girl manages to grow up and return home to garner the affections of her childhood crush._

 _I could use some advice from Sabrina right now_ , you thought as you bit your lip.

Waving away the thought as if it was second hand smoke flitting past your face, you thought about possibly pirating or torrenting the film in the comfort of where you’re sitting on. However, you remember your gracious professor-host who was somewhat frequently streaming TED talks that he can possibly quote or show in class. There was no way you would try to steal all the bandwidth from him. No siree. You were a respectful “tenant”. You’re not a freeloader. At least you wanted to believe that you weren’t one…

You found yourself tearing at your hair, trying to figure out a way to watch _Sabrina_. A voice in your head kept telling you that you could leave out the movie from your paper, or you could possibly watch it towards the end, but another voice kept nagging you about how it was necessary in the discussion.

How you only had the weekend and a few days to finish your paper…

How you needed to get your hands on a copy right away…

How it fit the theme you were supposed to illustrate about love and feminism…

How the plot suddenly sounded interesting and peaked your curiosity…

Giving in to those disembodied voices in your head that seemed to masquerade interest towards your academic life and not about personal and reflective matters, you find yourself reaching out for your phone.

“Hello, Penny?”  You found yourself addressing the one good friend left in your post-grad roster. “Are you still hanging out at Oulieè’s during the afternoon?”

It looked like you’ve got a reason to leave the flat that day.

 

 

***

 

 

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself staring at the blank Microsoft Word document, the fumes from your almost-black, almost-empty coffee obstructing your view. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you ignored the telltale ache emanating from your shoulder. As your strained your eyes glanced at the menu, you wondered what kind of sweet treat would most likely aid your creativity with your currently non-existing report.

The thing is, you weren’t a stranger to Oulieè’s.

A year or two ago, you wouldn’t be caught hanging around the café, considering it is literally across the street from the old office where you and your ex worked. Luckily for you, your good-for-nothing former boyfriend decided to bail out of your life forever when he was assigned to another department, in another office, in a whole different country. And all that was left in Oulieè’s was the bitter memories of your first dates. And of course, their scrumptious pastries.

You really had no reason to go back to Oulieè’s considering it was in on the other side of town from the university and the Professor’s flat, but it was still the closest place to Penelope’s.

Good old Penelope. She was the only one you could trust so far in your post-grad clique whom you can talk to. Well there was the male classmate you used to hang around with that you didn’t want to talk about right now considering the headache and body ache has caused you. It also happened that you couldn’t trust two or three other people in your group not to blab out that that said guy about your whereabouts… or why you are sort of hiding from him.

You and Penelope go way back… sort of. You were the one who actually interviewed Penny for the position you were about to vacate. It had been several years since your decline into the poor post-grad-in-need-of-a-scholarship position while Penelope, also deciding to focus on her post-grad studies, was currently an online English Tutor in the same building where you both employed, . Between the time you exited your work and she took your place to the time when she shifted to being a teacher, you both got to know each other better as classmates in the same Grad program.

And there was a reason you singled her out for this quest to Oulieè’s; she happened to be the only person you knew with _a massive movie collection_. Not to mention that she was the biggest Hepburn fan you knew in town.

“Oi,” a voice interrupted your quiet meditation over coffee. You looked up to find the brown haired girl with brilliant hazel eyes approach you with a welcoming smile. “You’re looking too serious over there.”

A smile quickly spread across your lips as you stood up and greeted your friend, exchanging a hug before settling down on your respective chairs in the uncrowded part of the cafe. The big cheerful smile on Penny’s face comforted you, having seen not seen her in almost a month. You were classmates for one class, but the last few meetings didn’t require you to show up, giving you free correspondence with the teacher via email to complete your requirements.

“What have you been up to?” Penny exclaimed, floofing her brown hair as she glanced at you, waiting for her order to come in. “I haven’t heard from you for a while.”

Something in you seemingly sunk down the depths of your stomach as your smile began to melt, bit by bit.

“Well –” You grimace, with a sheepish grin appearing on your face. Your friend returned it with a warm smile as she peeked at your laptop. “Here I am, trying to get my head around this report.” You gestured towards the blank document.

“Oh right,” Penelope quickly mutters as she takes a tube-shaped black hard drive from her backpack, handing it over to you. “I’ve got the entire Hepburn collection in there,” she exclaims as she stands beside you as you plug the drive into your computer, looking over your shoulder as you peruse her digital library. “You sure you just want _Sabrina_?”

You make an expression akin to a shrug and a smirk as you scroll down her MOVIES folder. “Well, can I get this too?”

Penny glimpses at it and raises an eyebrow. “Really,” she asks, mentioning your name with a flair as if you were planning to get drunk on a school night. “ _Shame_?”

You flash her your pearly whites. “Well, I haven’t seen it yet and I hear that Fassbender’s pretty hot in it.”

Your friend goes back to her seat and stretches, wearing a smug yet questioning grin on her face. “And who are you planning to watch it with?”

The distress on your face must have been so obvious as you felt your own cheeks heat up. Your mind did not just go _there_.

“Just me, you nerd,” you utter as you heard your voice break. You ignore Penny chuckling as you hide your face behind the monitor. “While I’m at it, I’ll get _Secretary_ too.”

Penelope let out a hearty laugh as you managed to pick up a napkin from the table, crumple it, and launch it in her direction as an attempt to shut her up. You never realized how much you’d miss her like this. Aside from Mattie, she was the other person you loved hanging out with. In fact, in the grad program you were considered a trio: you, Matthew, and Penelope. However, considering the last few months when _everything_ happened, she had been too preoccupied to hang out with your tiny clique. She was always off running to work meetings, family functions, and love interests she wouldn’t talk about. And most of the time she was gone, you were left with Mattie. Everything else was history.

“You know,” she exclaimed as she held her coffee, blowing at the steam. “They have been asking about you.”

You shrug, unconsciously cupping your cheek – the one with now fading dark bruise. You had to go out of your way to hide the discoloration with concealer, as you weren’t ready to discuss them with your friend.

“They?”

There was a knowing look on her face as she took a sip of her drink. “Our friends, you ninny,” she muttered after she put the cup down, her eyes straying towards the blinking lights of her hard drive as you waited for the files to transfer to your laptop. “Some of us saw this nice art film that debuted at the Vue, and we caught wind that the director and two of the cast members were going to be there for a little Q&A.” She brushed her hands on her lap, before entwining her fingers together, looking at you.

You absent-mindedly brush your fingers along your keyboard as if you’re trying to get rid of the accumulated dust on the letters. “Were you all there?” You probed, peering at your friend’s eyes.

Penelope wrinkled her nose and looked around.

“It’s weird,” she said, scratching the back of her head. “Mattie hasn’t been around lately either.”

The anxiety wheel in you started turning as you dropped your eyes back to the surface of the wide table where you both were seated. It took you two days to get away from him and it took you almost 36 hours to be rescued from the Restricted Section. It took you another 48 hours as you tried to forget about him thanks to the sanctuary you were provided, and yet here you were again. You were lucky it wasn’t the person in the flesh; the mention of his name felt as though you were being thrown in that unwanted cage whose bars and handles you personally fashioned continue to lock you in. Would you ever get a break?

“Yeah,” you said vaguely, chipping away at a crack at the side of the mouse connected to your laptop. “I haven’t heard from Mattie lately.”

Penny sniffed. “He claims he’s doing sidelines and some projects,” she exclaimed as she glanced on her phone. “Still, he hasn’t replied to any of our messages whenever we tried to contact him.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, he must be very busy.” You tried to kill the subject.

The silence was so awkward that you found yourself massaging the back of your head as you slip your fingers into your hair, trying to avoid Penelope’s glance as you listened to the hum of the hard drive being drowned out by the ambient noise found in the café. However, you did not notice the way Penelope tried to probe through you, making you wonder if she really had no inkling about that brewing storm between you and your other classmate.

It’s not that you don’t trust Penelope; you decided to approach her among all of them since she was the only person you know that _wouldn’t question you_ . It was not that you wanted her to know, although the situation at the time that you and Mattie were _supposedly clandestinely_ together called for the two of you to be quiet about it, especially when your professor-friend announced that the two of you were engaged. You knew that Penny wasn’t the one to tattle about you and your classmate, and you were sure she wouldn’t dare to.

But you were sure that she would question _it_ . The way you evaded Mattie, and in turn, _them_ , would definitely not go unnoticed.  Especially when you used to say that the time you spend with her, Mattie, and your friends was the highlight of your day. But you do needed to remember, this was during the start of your Post-grad life, before your dark days. Things have drastically changed now, not to mention your perception and opinion of Matthew.

Despite the worried look in Penny’s eyes, you preferred it if you kept mum about the issue. She wasn’t talking about it anyways.

You were grateful.

“Hey,” you struggled to break the silence. “I really appreciate it that you gave me some of the movies from your stash. Especially the Hepburn ones.”

She wrinkled her nose and waved a hand in her direction. “Don’t mention it,” she exclaimed, momentarily eyeing Oulieè’s famous dessert display. “I know how your Film Professor puts a lot of weight in grading the papers. It makes up 85% of your grade. Trust me, I took up Perkins last semester.” This made you smile.

“Besides,” she continued, looking at you. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”

It was your turn to wrinkle your nose. _Friends do need to know the truth too_ , you heard a voice in your head. And then you remember the worried face of a very significant professor sitting in the Faculty Lounge after hours after his little encounter with you in the Restricted Section. _They deserve at least the truth._

 _But maybe next time_ , you conclude your thoughts as you shot Penny a smile.

“By the way,”  Penny tried to keep the ball rolling. “I heard that you’re supposedly the luckiest girl on campus.”

You found yourself scratching the back of your neck as you looked back up at her. “What are you talking about?” You ask candidly, trying to hide your anxiety.

The way Penelope pursed her lips and leaned forward on her chair made you want to disappear behind your laptop’s monitor. This was exactly the expression she makes when she was about to drop a gossip bomb in the middle of the study group.

“You know what I’m talking about,” the way she muttered your last name in sarcasm sounded like a challenge.

“Are you really going to be the future Mrs. Hiddleston?”

Your laugh was so sarcastic, you might have sounded like a low-profile villain hiding in a treats shop. But most of all, it sounded so pathetic that you were so sure you were just so _obvious_.

“Well…” The way you scrunched up your face must have been hilarious.

However, it looked as it peaked Penny’s curiosity, as she leaned in, eager for you to tell your story. “I heard that it was so romantic…” she spoke as she put her hands together, cheeks flushed. You found yourself looking at her peculiarly as she waved her hands about, narrating an event you clearly knew you were part of, but remembered differently.

“Everyone was surrounding the two of you, and the Professor smiled as if he was the luckiest man in the universe.” You heard her sigh loudly, making you wonder if it was sarcasm or wistfulness. “And then next thing everyone knew, he had your face in his beautiful hands and  your mouth up in a kiss.”

Your eyes were seemingly having a seizure with how you blinked repeatedly at your friend whose head was lost in the clouds. Her account of _that_ day seemed accurate, but it wasn’t exactly how you remembered it.

Well, why blame yourself? You were too blind-sided by other things back then.

When you come to think of it, maybe Penny was right. It must have been such a magical moment that you considered it to be something else since you were too preoccupied over something that would eventually turn out wrong. And come to think of it, you used to find the contract and the Professor so insufferable and something like a chore.

The keywords are _used to_.

“Well of course I heard that news from Lily and Melanie,” Penelope continued speaking as you were lost in your thoughts, talking animatedly with her hands. “Of course they were so overjoyed, but you do know that Lily doesn’t want to speak to you anymore after you stole her one chance –”

You felt as if you were suddenly pulled from the clouds where your mind was flitting about, as the smile on your face melted.

“She said that?” The voice that came out of your mouth was small and almost squeaky. Honestly, with all the problems that were piling up in your life, you didn’t need another antagonist on your cast list.

To your surprise, Penny just wrinkled her nose once again (a favorite trait of hers) and waved a hand in your direction. “You know I’m just kidding you,” she said mischievously. “Of course she loves you!”

You drop your gaze as the small smile re-appeared on your lips.

“You know we love you,” she adds adoringly, placing both hands on her lap. “And we think that you and the Professor are perfect.”

 _That’s what everyone thinks_ , you thought.

It felt like it was automatic for you to downplay the chances of happiness, especially with Tom. You couldn’t blame Penny. Considering Lily’s long-standing crush on the teacher, you knew she wasn’t the only one enamoured by the Drama Arts lecturer who had the whole college eating out of the palm of his hand, including you! Well, including you when… you’re giving in to your guilty pleasures.  As much as you were pleased that your female friends were happy for this _one joyous occasion_ that appeared _legitimate_ , you couldn’t help but think that not everyone shared their sentiments.

And yet at that moment, after all the pain you’ve been through, it doesn’t even matter.

Thinking of the people who actually care for you, the few you consider your friends, and those who tried their best to house you but somewhat failed, those who worried about you, and that one person who you’re slowly regarding above everything else.

“I see a smile on your face,” Penny said with a bit of a chuckle. You couldn’t help but wince as you do realize yourself grinning brightly, as you run your fingers on the surface of your laptop. “So you do agree that you’re perfect for the Prof?”

There it was.

The one thing you tried not to think of ever since she started gushing about the two of you…

The one question picked out from the open bowl and slung at your face.

You never realized how Penelope could be so bold.

But as you turned to answer her question, you find your voice being stuck in your throat. You’ve always been like this. So afraid to face the truth, always putting off confrontations and declarations until the last minute. It almost cost you a relationship, not to mention the stubbornness that came along with it. Sometimes you could be so hopeless. With all the people who decide to have your back, you never realize how you unwittingly push them away with your obliviousness. And then you regretted and suffered when they abandoned you.

And yet, when someone rescues you from the depths of darkness of the library, you still hesitate to stand up for them.

You knew things had to change.

“So is it true!” Penny’s voice snapped you out of your reflective thoughts. “Are you happy with the Professor?”

You leaned back in your chair, letting your laptop go into sleep mode. You close your eyes and let the ambiance of the café fill your senses. The smell of cream and fried dough seep past your barriers and all you could think of was a messy kitchen filled with sweets and a baker who was dedicated to his craft, his smile that could light up even the darkest corners of a classroom.

For once you let your thoughts be honest.

“I guess…” you said as you felt your cheeks flush, trying to evade that knowing smile on Penny’s face. “I guess I am.”

 

***

 

 

You were guilty for trying to get away with another box of pastries from Oulieè’s.

Your mouth watering, you had to pull yourself away from the display shelf of sweets, reminding yourself that there is no honor of offering a whole plate of cheesecakes to a baker who could make something much better.

However, you seemed to have regretted this decision as you stood in the butcher’s section in the grocery store. As you looked at the portions of pork, sections of beef, and various kinds of poultry, you couldn’t help but feel ridiculous with what you were planning for that night.

This was a bit ambitious on your part, and you were sure that your old self  few months ago would have balked at the first notice of this idea, and would have even berated you for it. But this time, you refused to listen to her as you clutch that basket filled with your stash of condiments and ingredients for that little “treat” you were planning for dinner.

 

Well it wouldn’t be a little “treat” anymore if you were going to take over the entire dinner yourself…

 

And if _he’d_ let you…

 

“That will be £5.38,” the cashier snapped you out of your thoughts, as she gestured to everything you removed your grocery basket. Without taking too much out of your pocket, you look at your gatherings and hope that you’d whip up something delicious out of it.

 _So much for what you’d call dinner for two_ , you thought to yourself.

 

You found yourself trying not to regret your decision thirty minutes later, as you were hauling the groceries up to apartment 211. The last time you attempted this plot of yours was during Valentine’s Day with a former beau, and at least you had the energy and the strength to actually whip up a pretty Bento Box lunch that he barely even touched. Not to mention, you didn’t have these ghastly bruises plastered all over your shoulders.

You wince as you used your key to turn the door open.

If Tom happened to be home, your entire surprise would be somehow “ruined”. The moment he’d see you standing there on the front door, gawking at him as you lugged two grocery bags behind you, he’d definitely take all of those out of your hands, politely command you to sit down and “leave everything to him”. To top it all off, you wouldn’t have your wit at hand since you’d most likely be slowly melting into a fine puddle on the floor with one glimpse of that sunny smile.

The door creaked open and you slowly opened one eye to see if anyone was left at home.

A loud sigh of relief escaped your lungs when you find the living room empty. At least you wouldn’t have to embarrassingly collect your liquefied self on the floor with one glance from those blue eyes.

Tiptoeing out of your flats, you looked around to make sure that you were the only one in the apartment, before carefully heaving your grocery loot on the notorious kitchen table.

 

“ _Feel free to use the pots, pans, and utensils that you find here when the need to cook arises,_ ” his voice echoed in your head as you found yourself looking at his cooking stash that was hanging on the tiled wall.

 

“ _Though there are some little nifty gizmos you can find if you pull this drawer open_ ,” you remember him using his weight to heave an old wooden cabinet open. “ _If you think you need a fancy peeler or an elaborate grater_ ,” The way he held and demonstrated each tool in your memory eased a small chuckle out of your throat. “ _And you can’t find it at all – feel free to get my attention and I’ll show you where I’ve hidden them._ ”

 

You were half tempted to text him on the whereabouts of some kitchen gadgets you could use for your planned supper preparation.

But then you remind yourself that this was a surprise.

 

Riffling through your grocery bag, you began to lay out your ingredients one by one.

Putting your phone in a ziplock since you couldn’t afford a spill-proof case or even a decent screen protector, you tried to make sense of the recipe as you walked back and forth from the wooden work counter to the sink, getting your hands clean. Pulling a knife from the holder, you decided to work on the chicken breasts laid out on a small wooden chopping board, cutting grooves into them before kneading in salt, pepper, spices, and other herbs.

Planning to alter a bit from the original recipe by adding more vegetables than what is intended, you hold the knife you previously used on the chicken with one hand as you stared down a red onion. It’s not that you didn’t pay attention in home economics class or your mother when she was trying to get you to help in the kitchen, it’s not about the fact that onions make your sensitive eyes water once in a while either. It was just that you were so used to someone else cooking for you as you were growing up, and eventually shifting to microwave dinners and instant noodles while you were starting to live on your own. You were not even going to start on how you depended on fast food takeout at one point.

But now as you have a stare down with this innocent white layered ball of spiciness, you realize that the whole chopping process is going to be a challenge for you – without crying.

It’s not that you didn’t do home-style cooking (consider the fact that there was a period when you were on a diet and you were making sandwiches and grilled chicken to take to the office), it _just wasn’t your style_. And the fact you’re doing all of this, stepping out of your comfort zone.

You grit your teeth and brushed back the hair from your face as you slowly worked on peeling the skin off the second onion. You look back and survey your mess; it wasn’t  pretty.

The moment you brought down the knife to slice the first onion in half, your eyes began to sting, making you cry as if you were Hercules cursed by Hera to murder your own children. And by children, the onions.

Tears began to fall as you struggle to keep your vision clear, squinting one eye and another. Despite how dangerous it seemed, you continued chopping through the other half of the onion. Your vision blurred now with the tears coming down on a constant stream, both your eyes flaring with heat as if you were forced to look in the insides of the Ark of the Covenant, you struggled to make sure that the sharp knife does not graze a nail or two as you don’t want to be compared to Frodo the Nine Fingered.

 

The door to the flat swung open.

 

You slammed down the knife on the side of the wooden counter as your hands quickly shoot up towards your face. Remembering that your hands were currently covered with the essence of the brave onion warriors you slaughtered, you made sure not to rub your eyes directly with your fingers unless you want your corneas transplanted. You proceed to rub them with your wrists, hoping your vision cleared before you could explain yourself to the newcomer who was looking at you worriedly, as if he was a father who caught his young daughter trying to boil water without supervision.

“Hey,” the soothing voice laced with that glorious English accent greeted you, as you heard a messenger bag dropping towards the closest barstool to the counter, when you felt hands suddenly touching your face. “ _What’s wrong, sweetie?_ ”

You let out a frustrated tsk, and it would have looked as if you were caught crying over that useless bastard fling you had a few weeks ago, you know, the one who left you bruised, battered, and technically homeless.

And you wouldn’t dare look at the professor’s face right now. You’d either die of embarrassment over the fact that he probably thought you weren’t over Mattie and that’s why you’re crying over his kitchen counter or the fact that you couldn’t properly dice onions like any other perfect girl who could cook.

“Come on,” you heard him coo. “You can tell me why you are crying.”

That was when he probably noticed the chopping board.

“Oh,” he said abruptly, his voice faltering.

You gently remove a large hand from your face as you attempt to cover your mouth in shame. “Onions,” you frustratingly croak out, as you gestured at the violet-colored mess on the wooden board.

Tom looked as if he was trying hard not to stifle a laugh.

You have already grabbed a tissue and started dabbing away at your food-induced tears. “Don’t you laugh at me, baker boy,” wagging a finger at him as you watched him turn around, the broad back with the protruding shoulder blades through the thin dress shirt being the only blurry thing you could see. He clearly had his hands on his waist as you saw him shake his head, watching him walk away, your heart falling into the bile of your stomach as you wondered how much of a turn-off you looked right now.

Until you saw him retrieve something from his messenger bag, unfolding it with his long fingers, and seemingly picking something out from it.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded in the same tone he used on you to drop your panties in the past, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You did as you were told and you felt something being popped on your tongue that tasted of strawberries.

“It’s gum,” he informed you as you heard the crinkling of a wrapper. “Go on, keep chewing.”

Your eyesight began to clear as the taste of sweet berries filled your tongue, making you forget about the damned onions. The moment your vision cleared, the first thing that caught your eye was the beautiful stubbled-jaw of your professor friend, leaning on the wooden counter right in front of you, wearing the most endearing smug grin on his stupid British face.

“Good, isn’t it?” Tom said cheekily. “Now try cutting the onions again.”

Trying not to blush (though it was too late considering the hell the onions put you through), you nod as you held the knife in your hands again, and continued where you left off.

Lo and behold, in the span of five minutes, you awkwardly finish chopping what was left of the two onions you needed diced without even shedding one tear.

“Wow,” you mused as you found yourself looking straight into those blue eyes again that amusingly watched you as he balanced his face on his large palm. “That actually worked…”

A small chuckle escaped Tom’s lips. “My friends wouldn’t believe me, but gum does for your onion-cutting tears,” he said with a sigh.

Suddenly, you find him wrinkling his nose as he saw the rest of your grocery stash on the counter.

“What’s all of this for, pumpkin?”

You stop chopping with a halt as you reminded yourself not to raise the kitchen knife to your host as it is rude and cruel. But judging the big grin on his face, you knew he was definitely enjoying of this. Well there was that hint of confusion that was etched on his cheeks, and you knew that this was the one issue you had to address at that exact moment.

 

“ _Dinner,_ ” you say with determination. “I wanted to make dinner for a change.”

 

There was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you, seemingly deep in thought. You had no idea what he was thinking about as he gazed at you, somehow weighing your words. You didn’t know if he was trying to read you, attempting to find sincerity in your words, and if there was any deeper meaning to your actions or were you just simply returning his kindness of being such a great host. Despite of what was going on in his head, you sensed affection. At least you wanted to think it was.

 

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly, moving the knife aside from your hand so he can entwine his fingers around yours.

 

For a moment you were caught off guard with how he managed to do it, as you stopped in mid-chew of your gum to look at him.

 

Things have changed drastically between the time in the Auditorium to the incident in the Restricted section. Gentle gestures that used to initiate a fire of panic within you now become soothing touches that calmed you. The man you used to see as someone so repulsive despite appearances – repulsive because of the existence of one agreement that you saw as a necessary evil – suddenly becomes something else, something more... _sacred_ . Even the “necessary evil” you used to consider has transformed into a sanctuary. Something you did not expect. And this feeling just made you feel filled, complete, and _whole_.

 

“I want to,” you start out awkwardly, as you dared to look into the Professor’s eyes. “Please let me.”

A small grin seemed to ease out from the side of his mouth upon hearing you say that.

 

“I’m honored to let you,” he said as he clearly dropped his gaze and you wouldn’t believe it as a tinge of pink seemed to appear on his cheeks. “ _Thank you._ ”

 

As he retracted his hands from yours, allowing you to continue working with the rest of the ingredients, you bashfully grin up at the Professor who seemingly wasn’t sure of what to do next. He didn’t know whether he should stand in front of you, scratching through his golden blonde hair looking confused and flushed, or should he try and do something else instead of bothering you with his adorable awkwardness.

But as you continued working, you never found the taste of strawberries so sweet as you chewed on the gum he gave you.

 

 

***

 

 

Creative silence had never felt this good.

Well you didn’t have silence the whole time while you were doing it.

Especially when you were still chewing that gum. You had to somewhat set it aside once you were done with the onions. It might ruin your appetite, and this was actually going to be a good meal… at least you thought it to be.

You were surprised, however, to find Tom donning his apron and joining you in the kitchen as you struggled to finish dicing off the rest of the ingredients. His presence in the kitchen didn’t help with your anxiety, considering that him being home that early put a dampener on your plans.

 _Stupid_ , you mutter in your head as you hastily cut into the bell peppers. _Why didn’t I think he’d be home so early?_

You tried to ignore his whistling behind you as he preheated the oven that was for a “special project” that had, according to him,been put off for quite a while,. You didn’t understand either why you were so sweaty and so conscious the entire time he was whistling away, buttering up a ramekin for his baking. You never used to be this jumpy around him. In fact, you were either too chill when he’s around, pretending he wasn’t even there; and that time when you were so anxious for different reasons, like what the fuck he’d be doing next that wouldn’t be written in fine print.

But now the feeling was different; you were jumpy for a whole _new_ different reason…

And it almost made you cut off a finger.

The way you uttered “Ow!” and the way you let the knife fall to the side of the chopping board definitely caught the baker’s attention. After the worrying looks and concerning questions of,  “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”, your Baker-Professor-Friend couldn’t stand there and ignore the colorful catastrophe that is cluttering his kitchen counter.

 

“Do you want me to teach you how to cut them?”

 

The question would have been insulting for you before, but the way he smiled and delivered it only convinced you to nod your head.

You quickly regretted saying yes when he suddenly slipped behind you and glided those big hands over your arms only to take control of your hands. Picking up the knife with your right hand, he positioned your other hand in a slightly closed fist to hold down the bell pepper. Skillfully picking up the knife with yours, he began to chop away, moving your other hand holding down the vegetable in such a manner that you wouldn’t imagine it to be easy. When he was done, you stared at the finely diced vegetables that were neatly stacked to the side of the wooden chopping board with the blade of the knife.

 

“Easy isn’t it,” he asked cheerily.

 

You wouldn’t know because you were seemingly not paying attention as you were so worried about him finding out that you were sweating cold the entire time he was holding your hand…

 

Brushing his upper torso against your shoulder blades…

Keeping in close proximity as he leaned over you…

His skillful hands gently cradling yours as he guided you…

 

And you slowly realize that the man was born to be a teacher.

 

And you?

 

You were hopelessly turned on by this realization that you refuse to accept... days ago?

Months ago?

Even _years_ ago?

 

As you smiled at him feebly, thanking him for the instruction, you realize that things would change from now on. You wonder how oblivious the man could be with the way your actions were slowly changing, as he returned your gratitude with a trademarked sunny grin he usually flashed in class, before turning around to return to his own work.

You wondered if he still felt the same about _things_ from the time your agreement came into fruition.

Staring at his broad back as he animatedly retrieved a covered bowl from the refrigerator, you remind yourself that you had your own goal to meet that night.

 

Shaking your head, you went back to the recipe on your phone, reminding you that the show must go on.

 

Luckily for you, the worst was over and the rest of the recipe called for cooking and mixing.

Above it all, Tom was already done with his “special project” having popped it in the oven, and was now looking peculiarly at you with an amused grin as he leaned on an elbow on the other side of the counter. The way he smiled as he quietly watched you seemed like an inviting stance, despite the fact that he was catching you off your guard.

Eventually, with all his inquisitive questions such as “Do you need help?” and “What else do you need?” repeatedly asking you like an excited five-year-old child who was finally allowed in the kitchen, you gave in and allowed him to read the recipe details for you as you scampered about.

 

“Damn, _Lemon Pepper Chicken with Creamy Rice_?!” he whistled low as he read through the tiny screen. “This looks tasty.”

“Stop patronizing the dish, it’s not even made,” you say through gritted teeth as you began to prepare your pan for frying the chicken breasts.

 

The way the phone lit up his face when he smiled was enough for the stove to light up itself.

 

“I’m quite sure it’ll be delicious,” he said softly. “ _Especially if it’s a labor of love._ ”

You tried to ignore the last line as you went about seasoning the meat in your pan.

 

The kitchen soon began to smell of lemon, paprika, and cheese.

Tom had been a helpful assistant, filling your pan with the rest of the ingredients such as onions, the rest of the vegetables, and rice as you continued mixing them. He even brought out a whole stock of chicken broth from his stash when you started panicking that you hadn’t boiled the chicken before putting it in.

He was more than happy to pour in “his favorite ingredients” – namely the cheeses involved (Parmesan and Cheddar) – and almost finished all the white wine in the glass that he was supposed to pour in the rice-mixture, if you hadn’t poked him in the rib.

You both took turns mixing the now-cooked rice that had absorbed the flavor of the chicken and cheeses, before you both finally leave the rest of the ingredients to cook after putting the chicken back in and on top of all the other ingredients.

“Boy, that’s going to be a lot for just the two of us,” Tom mused as he stood beside the steaming pan.

You shrug. “We’ll have enough left over for tomorrow,” you mutter, wiping away sweat from your brow, ignoring the way he managed to tuck away a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Won’t that be good?”

His blue eyes gleamed in the soft lights of the kitchen area.

 

“That’ll be perfect.”

 

You had to blink more than thrice to snap yourself out of that trance.

Fanning yourself as you clearly noticed how he also managed to run his hands across his neck, you mutter something about the temperature before checking the state of your chicken. “We’re going to be so stuffed,” you exclaim as you take a whiff of the creamy steam coming out of the pan. “Are you sure we’d still have room for your _project_?”

The way Tom chuckled, his deep voice echoing in his throat, made a shiver run up the back of your neck.

“Let’s see you say no to my _chocolate soufflé_...“

 

Suddenly, his blue eyes widened.

 

“ _FUCK,_ ” you never heard him curse so loud before. Well, at least in a _chaste_ situation. **“** **_MY SOUFFLE!!!_ ** **”**

 

He suddenly grabbed his oven mitts and made a run for it. You tried not to laugh as you stood there with your arms crossed, realizing that he must have been distracted with your _own_ cooking project that he forgot about his own.

Sighing, you approach him fussing about a warm baking pan, blowing away the steam that came from it.

Luckily, the soufflé was fine.

A little burnt at the top, but fine.

You both just ended up laughing.

 

 

***

 

 

“Oh boy, am I stuffed!”

“So, shall we save the soufflé for another day?”

“I think I still have room for it, but it’ll be in an hour.”

“How about I do the dishes first and then…”

 

You rested your head in your hand as you lean on the table, surveying the mess, the clutter of plates, and your full and content host slouching gleefully on his chair, for once losing a bit of his princely poise. There was still a lot of your Lemon Chicken for about two more servings and you were sure you could convince Tom to not cook for tomorrow at least.

But considering the smile on his face, you were content that this dinner was a better option than just taking home a cake from Oulieè’s.

However, the night wasn’t over.

 

“Do you want to do _something_ before _bed_?” You ask after blinking once, parting your lips as you gazed at your host.

 

To Tom, however, it looked as if you flitted your eyelashes at him more than twice, and suddenly your plump moist lips were something more exquisite than that big plate of chocolate soufflé sitting on the kitchen counter.

The question lingering in his mind escaped his mouth almost like a frog’s rainsong croak, “I beg your pardon—?”

 

The way you snickered made him wonder if you read his mind.

 

“Don’t you want to watch a movie along with the chocolate soufflé,” you suggested, perching your chin on your intertwined knuckles. “It’ll take half an hour for us to clear up, and we’d probably be less full when we finish.”

“ _Oh_ ,” the way he formed the perfect-O with his mouth upon the realization was so rewarding to watch. “Well,” he started, scratching the back of his head. “We could set up the player.”

“That would be awesome! Do you mind if we put on something by Hepburn…”

The way he widened his eyes was a joy to watch.

“ _How could I say no to anything by Hepburn?_ ”

You snap your fingers, suddenly becoming animated. You fail to notice how his eyes seem to gleam, as he watched you happily planning and plotting with him. You didn’t know that this was something he missed dearly.

“Let’s see,” you started. “I’m making this report about Hepburn films, and I realized that I still haven’t watched _Sabrina_.”

Tom suddenly frowned. “You’ve never watched _Sabrina_?!!”

“Well, not the original.”

You heard him click his tongue as he suddenly stood up and started picking up some of the dishes. “I can’t believe you haven’t watched that masterpiece,” he said, feigning frustration as he began to balance the plates in one arm. “Come on, we’re doing that tonight.”

You couldn’t help but wonder where his enthusiasm was coming from.

 

In less than half an hour, you discover that the dishes were away churning in the dishwasher, the table kept and clean, and your Professor-Friend was already on the couch with the player properly hooked to your laptop and to the giant LCD screen hanging on his wall.

Not to mention the suggestive way he was patting the seat beside him on the couch.

“Jesus Christ, I just say Hepburn and you’re all set!”

His boyish grin was the only answer he could give you as you opened the movie file on your laptop.

 

 

_Once upon a time,_

_On the north shore of Long Island,_

_Some thirty miles from New York,_

_There lived a small girl on a large estate._

 

_The estate was very large indeed, and had many servants._

_There were gardeners to take care of the gardens,_

_And a tree surgeon on a retainer._

_There was a boatman to take care of the boats:_

_To put them in the water in the spring,_

_And scrape their bottoms in the winter._

 

_There were specialists to take care of the grounds:_

_The outdoor tennis court_

_And the indoor tennis court,_

_The outdoor swimming pool_

_And the indoor swimming pool._

 

_And there was a man of no particular title_

_Who took care of the small pool in the garden_

_For a goldfish named George._

 

 

You were silently taking note of that classic elegant feel the movie had been radiating from the first frame. It had a  fairytale essence to it, especially with the way the introduction was delivered by Hepburn, with her noble and sweet voice.

Your friends were right about how _Sabrina_ should not be remade. Sure, you enjoyed the 1995 version, but the original managed to preserve the style and ideals of its time, the one thing that was relevant and beautified the plot. It was definitely an experience, and Penny was right that you were missing out on if you haven’t watched it.

It was definitely an experience, and Penny was right that you were missing out if you haven’t watched it.

And what made Sabrina so _Sabrina_ was the fact that she was played by Hepburn, and no one else.

Hepburn was just so elegant, as she always was. From the first scene when she turned on all of the Larabees’ cars in an attempt to achieve carbon monoxide poisoning was just hilarious to you. To do all of that just because of a broken heart? Seriously hilarious.

Hilarious since it was so true.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that your seatmate and host had left the couch and has returned with the soufflé in tow, placed neatly on a fancy plate.

He was grinning mischievously at you as he handed you a plate and a spoon of your own, indicating that you could start digging in.

You didn’t want to tell him how much you wanted to laugh at that moment with the way his glasses were lopsided and his golden curls all ruffled as he hungrily eyed the chocolate mound, as if he didn’t have a spoonful of creamy rice earlier. But the moment he had a bite, he gracefully adjusted his glasses and leaned back on his seat, those azure eyes suddenly narrowing and focusing, as he began to absorb and drown in the 50s essence of the film he was watching.

He looked so laidback and inquisitive, like a sponge ready to absorb all the information, emotions, and impressions he was willing to receive.  It was the trait of a true classics student and the enthusiasm of theatre aficionado, even if the current subject at hand was a film.

But there was a spark in his eye you swore you haven’t seen before… or had you?

The way he relaxed his shoulders and the way he carried his gait…you couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was refreshing. There was a kind of warmth emanating from your Professor-Friend that you couldn’t help but stare.

You knew this Tom, you were aware of this Tom and yet, he looked so different…

You couldn’t help but admit that he seemed to _glow_.

He suddenly turned to look at you, clearly realizing that he was being observed. Trying not to look alarmed, you quickly avert your gaze back to the soufflé as you awkwardly began to dig a scoop for your own little plate, ignoring how he bashfully grinned as he took a spoonful from his own.

 

 

 

 

 

> _Sabrina sadly looks down at her bowl. “I don’t know what happened.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The Baron chuckles slightly and turns to her, looking at her so-called soufflé. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he says knowingly, yet gently. “You forgot to turn on the oven!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The girl turns to him, eyes wide with shock. “_ **_Oh!_ ** _”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’ve been watching you for a long time, mademoiselle,” he said as he removed the cloth from his arm and laced it around the bowl. “Your mind has not been on the_ _cooking. Your mind has been elsewhere.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Sabrina felt her eyebrow shoot up. How can this man know what she is feeling?_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You are in love,” the Baron mused quietly. “And I will venture to go a step further – you are unhappily loved.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _She held her chin up high, trying to ignore the knowing smug grin on the Baron’s face._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Does it show?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He let out this small chuckle as he said indignantly, “Very clearly!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Sabrina felt as if her heart sank deeper into the crevices of her stomach._
> 
>  
> 
> _“_ **_A woman happily loved, she burns the soufflé!_ ** _” He told her as-a-matter-of-factly. “_ **_A woman unhappily loved, she forgets to turn on the oven._ ** _”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The girl could only sigh._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Am I correct?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Sabrina sadly nodded, accepting it. “Yes.”_

 

 

You almost dropped your spoon.

You saw this _exact_ scene before, and it wasn’t even a full three hours since it happened under your nose. You looked down and realize that you almost choked on a spoonful of _soufflé_! The exact thing Sabrina was –

In the dim lights of the living room, you slowly turned your head to look at your gracious host, as you subtly gazed at the expression on his face. To your surprise, he didn’t seem affected by the scene between the Baron and Sabrina, and was now amusingly giggling and “d’aawing” about David ignoring the public reading of the heroine’s letters by her father.

Something in your head seemed to have clicked as you gazed at those high-set cheekbones, that funny smile, and those spectacles shielding those bright blue eyes that seemed to say more than what they already could convey…

 

 _A woman happily loved burns the soufflé_ . You dared to think as you looked down at the still scrumptious chocolate treat, with a slightly burnt aftertaste. _Could it be the same with men?_

 

The question rang in your ear as you momentarily lose track of the movie’s pace, looking at Tom with a whole new perspective…

The man in question then must have noticed once more that he was being watched, so he had to put down his plate with huge spoonfuls of chocolate still in it and turn to you, wondering if he had something on his face.

“What is it, darling?”

You didn’t dare to blink or avert your eyes this time.

You looked straight into those baby blues, realizing something you wouldn’t dare say out loud.

“Nothing,” you whisper as your vision slowly dropped to those thin lips, still slightly stained with chocolate at the edges, as you hide a small smile. “Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can get her [Lemon Pepper Chicken & Creamy Rice recipe here](http://www.buzzfeed.com/clairenolan/if-youre-looking-for-an-easy-one-pot-meal-this-chicken-dish#.rwWG2WPgG). She just made a little adjustments like, extra cheese and more vegetables. She’d want the Professor to be healthy too. :3


	20. Beyond The Curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover a whole new side to the Professor during that one day when he forgot his attaché case at the flat. This is when you realize that maybe there was more to what originally meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot three (or four?) new alternate universe characters I have added in this chapter. :D
> 
> As always, thank you to Wolfie for proofing! Damn that took us quite a while. But it was worth it! <3

_ “…and that is how you make an oven-baked egg bowl sandwich. Voila!” _

 

_ “No cleanup, no nothing?” _

 

_ “Well that’s what the recipe says – but it works for me!” _

 

_ “Not a bad idea for eating breakfast at nine in the evening _ _.” _

 

_ “Hey! You’re the one who wanted an all-day breakfast menu…” _

 

 

 

The memories of making breakfast had never been this delightful.

You smile to yourself as you carefully retrieve a foil-wrapped sphere from the oven with colorful striped mittens that obviously weren’t yours.

You used to think you weren’t the kind of girl who would cook.

In fact, when you turned eighteen, your old-fashioned grandmother would often joke how she’d be worried about you getting a husband since you didn’t know how to properly handle a knife and a ladle. Of course, your dad who was the wiz in the kitchen said he believed in your skills and that you’d learn someday.

You just didn’t realize that it would be your Professor-friend who would bring out this enthusiasm in the kitchen.

All of a sudden, you wonder if English, Humanities, and Drama  were  the only thing s that Tom was willing to teach.  Could he see you as his first experimental  baking  student?

You wouldn’t admit to yourself that you wished you were more than that.

But in fact, in everyone else’s eyes on campus, you were .

You shake your head, trying to focus on your train of thought as you turned around and settled the foiled dish on a wooden chopping board, before closing the oven door behind you with one mittened hand.

With much delicateness and poise, you try to recreate the Professor’s actions from a few nights ago, following his recipes and instructions to handling the “perfect trick” to a “perfect breakfast” for someone who “is in a hurry for school or work to do the dishes”.

Of course, you found yourself putting your hands on your hips and comically turning up your nose to him, saying “I’m not that lazy… ”

However, he replied with those big blue puppy eyes as he licked some cream off his finger, saying “I’m not saying that you’re lazy,  _ pumpkin _ ,” almost causing you to raise your eyebrow. “I just want to make things more convenient for you in case I’m not around. After all, you were the one who said you wanted to know my little tips and tricks . ”

Once again, you found yourself underestimating how considerate your Educator-Friend was.

“ _ Don’t you want to know the magician’s secrets? _ ”

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as you unwrap the foil from the golden brown bun, smiling to yourself as you realized that it baked perfectly. You were so glad that you were introduced to the baker’s well-kept stock of soup bowls hidden in a warm place in his pantry. Somehow, it made you wonder how the hell did he even have all the time to make these when he’s supposedly busy running around the campus, giving lectures, researching in a tiny little hole in the graduate school library, or hiding in his little faculty nook during the holidays.

The fact that Tom  managed  to find time to bake and keep a stock just amazes you. You were quite sure that the man has his schedule more organized and working like clockwork compared to how you would even set up and deal with meetings to get through the day.

You sigh as you take a whiff of the steam coming from your creation.

Bits of mozzarella bits  stuck  to the “cap” of the bread bowl edges as you pulled it upwards.

You smile as you remember how Tom  chuckled loudly as he held those mozzarella pieces you coveted high above your head when he found out that you were obsessed with cheese.  He couldn’t stop giggling either when you found out he  was  saving up for a raclette cheese machine. For some reason, you found his disposition towards you and your  interests  completely different from how he reacted before and yet it seemed as if he never changed .

You hum to yourself as you worked, preparing a few greens beside your oven-baked cheeseburger sandwich.

The smell of baked eggs and meat  combined  with the cheese was making your stomach  growl . You sprinkle some cut-up parsley over the still bubbling cheese bed that was covering the rest of the hidden ingredients embedded into the bread. Despite delicately preparing a breakfast that would be devoured for a party of one, thoughts just lazily soared into your head as you were reminded of how your host concisely set up a similar meal in ways as parallel as your movements.

 

_ “I can’t possibly remember the best ways of cutting up those onions and those parsley even if you have a recipe at hand,” you remember yourself saying, disbelievingly watching him breeze through the ingredients with a knife. “I certainly am not as good as – _ _ ” _ _ You find yourself gesturing to the dexterity brought upon by those fingers twirling the knife like a pro. “That!” _

_ A sly, wolfish smile appeared on his face. “Nothing’s impossible, sweetheart,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly before raising the chopping board to fill the hollowed bread with the contents. “May I make a suggestion?” _

_ You look up at him as you leaned on the kitchen table, trying to get a better look at what was being demonstrated as if he was in a cooking show. _

_ “Try to think of me while you’re doing it _ _.” _ _ The smile on his face as he said it was just intoxicating. Almost like an invitation. As if thinking about him was something so delightful _ _. _

_ You couldn’t hide the mix of the mirth and disbelief on your face. “Think of you?” You huffed with bewilderment. “As if I would do that…” _

_ He raised his eyebrow, retaining that charming smile on his face. “I was just suggesting that you try to remember my style and actions, pumpkin,” he said, half-laughing as he put down his knife to nudge your cheek with the back of his finger. “What else were you thinkin’? _ ”

 

You find yourself rolling your eyes at present when you remember how red you were in the face.

Pulling up a wooden stool, you grab the remote and  lowered the volume of your favorite morning show as you finish drying your hands after washing them in preparation of your meal.

Withdrawing your fingers once or twice from the steamy bun, you  wait for it to cool as you looked around only to notice the creative mess in your kitchen that needs cleaning. You almost palmed your face upon realizing this if it wasn’t for the salt and pepper still dusting your fingers.

_ Tom would have all of this cleaned up in a jiffy _ , you couldn’t help but think as you  glance  at your slightly burnt and lopsided bread, wallowing in self-pity upon that looming cloud over your head how he was being so nice to you and yet you didn’t feel worth it…  _ He had always been grace under fire… _

The image of him juggling two trays as he  closed  the oven door with his knee brought a smile to your face.  _ And he  _ _ has  _ _ always been so graceful, _ you thought to yourself as you gently touch the top of the bun, realizing through its warm, fluttery texture that your masterpiece is ready to be consumed.

You would take care of the dishes, the empty cheese containers, and the dirty utensils  but not  before you had your bite of this scrumptious breakfast.  Though it wasn’t perfect like Tom’s, it was your own.  You, however, couldn’t help but compare it to the master who taught you how it was made.

As much as  _ he _ would have considered your work as a  _ creative chaos _ , you couldn’t help but tell the Professor speaking inside your head that “what seemed to be creative chaos to him, would look like a wonderful dance if  _ he  _ was the one who did  _ it”. _ From the way he handled the knives, and the way he sautéed the onions , the way he preheated the oven, and to the way he knew when the cheese would be perfectly burnt. You watched him work in your mind as you take your first bite of your breakfast, imagining him to be this light-footed artist in the kitchen, far from the imposing yet revered Humanities God in the lecture hall, but something close to the Gourmet Gods who worked in 5-Star Restaurants and made food critics blush.

And yet he lingered in your mind as the taste of the creamy cheese and egg mixed in your mouth. He was so calm, collected, and so outright cool that you definitely did not expect him at all to –  
  


In the middle of your tranquil thoughts, you heard your phone beep.

 

You opened one eye as you nonchalantly placed down your misshapen breakfast makeshift bread and wiped your hand on your shirt, as you picked up your phone that had a smudge of cheese on its screen cover.

 

 

**_Professor H_ **

_ Pumpkin? Um… I have  _ _ a  _ _ big favor to ask of you. Please? Pretty please? It’s very urgent. _

 

 

You found yourself  licking mayonnaise from your finger as your eyes fell upon  a  small file case  lying on the coffee table in front of the large screen TV.

Having read the rest of the long message and what followed after that seemed to come from frantic texting, you sigh as you re-wrap what’s left of your burger in foil and sigh at the mess that you still need to clean up. But you need to put that aside for later after what came up.

_ “ _ _ So much for calm and collected _ ,” you mutter as you wash your hands in a hurry.

 

 

***

 

 

The Apolonius.

Where  to begin ? It is considered to be one of the well-known hallmarks in Theatrical History when it comes to your district. Okay, maybe even your city. Okay, maybe in the entire country. Being part of the “circle of theatres” that held high-end productions, it is the go-to favorite of well-known theatre directors who are involved in remakes of classics that seemed to be the trend for the past few years.

E specially amongst directors who loved big Shakespearean productions.

Now you haven’t really heard about this production, but you have heard about the director involved in the play that was about to be staged in the Apolonius. Jorges Denholm is one of the most celebrated directors in the business, having switched from being this cantankerous, self-obsessed film actor to an accomplished playwright who was said to have brought the “glam” back in Broadway. Now he’s back in his home country, and was planning to give a glorious spin to one of Shakespeare’s classics.

As you stand in front of the door, holding this faded brown attaché case, you were wondering which one of the famous actors on the cast list should you name drop so the very-English-looking guard could let you in. You were sure that  name dropping that silly-looking Professor of yours wouldn’t work considering that this might all be some cruel prank set up by him in reply to you refusing to give in to his nightly cook outs for the past few months.

But of course, you wouldn’t imagine him to be that cruel. At least not  _ anymore _ .

You were trying to reason out with at least two of the Apolonius stage-door security personnel that you were not some rabid fan to see Richard Madden or Jamie Parker auditioning for Denholm, when  suddenly a beautiful brunette with big bright brown eyes appeared by the doorway, winking suggestively at one suited security before turning to you.

“Hello , darling!  Would  you happen to come from the University?”

You dropped your jaw looking a bit confused,  until  you  realized  that the Professor’s faded case that was dangling from your hands actually had the logo of the campus you both were affiliated with. You turned to look at her with a sheepish smile and realized that maybe she was your way in.

“Yes I …”

You felt like changing sexual preferences with the way she beamed at you. “Oh! We’ve been waiting for you! Come, come!”

She ushered you from underneath the noses of the two smitten security personnel and next thing you knew, you were walking in the hallways of the theatre with  the  gorgeous bombshell who didn’t even bother to ask why you were so quiet.

Next thing you knew, you found yourself facing the glory which was the Main Hall of the historic Apolonius theatre.

More than seven hundred seats , it was a place where history happened. Some of the plays you have taken up in middle school has first been staged here, while most of those famous actors you’ve seen celebrated all over the media started here as well.

And now you find yourself standing in the Main Auditorium with the Orchestra Seats and for some reason it felt as if you were entering Disneyland as a child again.  Actually , it felt like something even more solemn.

It felt as if you were gazing upon Sistine Chapel’s ceiling for the first time.

As you completely forgot about the specimen in the black leather jacket and the tank top walking in front of you, you found that a mood was seemed to be set in the theatre as you entered. The lights were dimmed and a few spotlights were focused on what seemed to be an empty stage.

With your eyes adjusting to the darkness, you noticed that there were a few figures littering the stage, and was about to take a closer look when the bombshell in front of you turned around to speak.

“If you could please wait here .”

She gestures to a seat just  six rows away from what seems to be an elevated platform where three important-looking people seemed to be seated. She winks and smiles at you, flashing you pearly whites before approaching one of the personalities smugly seated on the platform, whispering in their ear before diverting their attention to the stage.

You gingerly place the case on your lap, folding your hands on the smooth brown leather. You start to question why you were there as you looked around, admiring the grandness of theatre hall, reminding you of that one time you watched  _ Carmen _ …

A  bitter taste suddenly swelled up in your mouth. You shake your head, trying to dispel that horrible memory as you once again question what you were doing there. It really was that simple, you followed the Professor’s directions that was in the message that followed the first one, and you found yourself in the Apolonius. It was curious, considering that his following texts sounded frantic and disorganized; this wasn’t the Tom you knew. The man you knew was thoroughly prepared, grace under fire, methodical, reasonable, sensible, logical, and all the other things you can find on a spick and span resume of a man who would definitely be hired as CEO of a groovy start-up company OR as the new Assistant-Dean of a Department ...

That was when a booming voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Thank you,” said a man who was old enough to be your father and dressed up as if he was your  grandfather  who taught ethics in Oxford. He dismissed this handsome looking young man who was bigger than your best-friend’s gym trainer, attractive enough to possibly earn a desirable role in start-up Hollywood. He had been reciting lines in order when you have entered the Theatre Hall, and you were too busy looking at the ceilings as if they were painted on by  Michelangelo  to even notice him.

“Next,” another middle-aged man with a mousy-looking face and a bowtie exclaimed, causing you to return your focus on the stage.

You were in the middle of wondering why the fuck you even there in the first place and where is the Professor when he says he needs  some thing  delivered ; when all of a sudden a gangly-looking figure that you almost didn’t recognize walked up on the stage and right into the spotlight, catching your eye.

He squinted in the bright lights, as he made sure not to make a mistake not to shield his eyes as he tried to take a gander at the judging panel.  You were sure that he couldn’t see you.

You can barely make out his face as well, with the way it was distorted by the bright lights and how he squinted his face while under them. However, the moment he started speaking and when you recognized  _ that _ voice… you ended up gasping in your seat.

 

 

“ _ This can be no trick. The conference was _

_ sadly borne; they have the truth of this from Hero; they _

_ seem to pity the lady. It seems her affections have their full _

_ bent. _ ”

 

 

That accent.

That baritone.

That voice.

You know that voice from anywhere, whether he was preaching about Ovid in an outdoor class or grunting in your ear during...

You had to shut your brain up if you wanted to see how  _ Shakespeare was properly done _ .

You had to lean on your seat as you clutched the case, an eyebrow raising as you tried to get a better look at the tall specimen standing in the middle of the stage. With his overused black quilted jacket covering the crispness of the white dress shirt that was clinging to his body, making him look gangly than what he really is. Or at least with how you actually saw him .

“ _ Love me?” _

 

 

The way he shrugged and made a disbelieving gesture towards himself made the character more realistic. The way he made the audience  quickly connect with the character and the way he managed to draw compassion from the audience was a testament to his prowess.

That acting prowess he kept under wraps and just decided to shell out in bits and pieces through his lectures in between classes.

 

 

_ “Why, it must be requited! I hear how I am _

_ censured. _ ”

 

 

The way he clutched his chest and looked down, a trembling smile appearing on his lips…  it  was something you’ve never seen before.

The Professor. The one man who  could  easily roam through campus with his head up high, so sure of himself and his charisma; knowing that he would turn heads whenever he speaks and wherever he goes. And yet as he slips into another persona, something brought about by a different character – a character out of time and yet reconcilable with today’s persona of men – you wonder why it seems as if some of this charisma that he uses to take control of a crowd during academic lectures seem to be ebbing away…

And then you start seeing a side , a side he hopes the producers  will  not see, a side he prays that the Director would not be able to take notice of .  You suddenly see a side of him that  is  so unsure and so careful of his actions and words, that despite you know he is putting his best foot forward; you can see the ambivalence in those blue eyes that were being blinded by the bright lights .

And you know that the last thing the Professor would be is to be ambivalent.

 

 

_ “They say I will bear myself proudly if I perceive _

_ the love come from her. They say, too, that she will rather _

_ die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to _

_ marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that hear _

_ their detractions and can put them to mending.” _

 

 

You unmistakably heard a quiver in his voice as he laughed after the delivery. Wincing, you wondered what the panel would be thinking of him by now. You weren’t sure how Benedick should be properly delivered, but you were quite sure that the character was very headstrong and smug enough to come head to head with a character like Beatrice.

You wonder if is it part of the act? Or was it --

That’s when you realize it .

He is nervous. The Professor  _ is _ nervous.

But with the way he was depicting Benedick in a few short lines, it seemed to work for him to hide the nervousness behind his portrayal by appearing nervy yet excited by the ‘discovery’ that maybe Beatrice does love him .

You found your lips forming a thin line when the words and the meanings behind it got around your head.

 

 

_ “They say the lady is fair; ’tis a truth, I can bear them witness. And _

_ virtuous; ’tis so, I cannot reprove it. And wise, but for _

_ loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no _

_ great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love _

_ with her! I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants _

_ of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against _

_ marriage, but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the _

_ meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall _

_ quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the _

_ brain awe a man from the career of his humor?” _

 

 

This was a different man you imagined in your mind as you recounted his steps  while cooking you breakfast; you could admit that this doesn’t lower your expectations of him as you continue to watch in awe. After all, this is the first time you see him  _ almost actually _ taking part of a production, and not sitting back and making students quiver with nervousness (or is it delight) in classrooms as they deliver their own monologues.

You barely realize how you were shifting in your seat, slowly holding up the case to your chest as you  _ clearly enjoyed _ the Professor’s presentation.

But despite somewhat appearing to gain control of his audience (despite being unable to see the expression on the supposed judges’ faces) as confidence began to appear in his gait and manner of delivery, perfectly matching the text , you didn’t realize that maybe he was starting to get used to the glare of the spotlight, seeing right past it and into the audience.

 

 

_ “No! The world must be peopled. _

_ When I said I would die a bachelor, _

_ I did not think I should live till I were married”. _

 

 

He licked his lips upon saying the word “married”, as you subtly saw his eyes fall upon that well-bosomed woman , seemingly affirming her presence as she stood beside the raised platform of observers. You try not to give a name to that sickening flutter you feel just beneath your chest, but you forgot all about it the moment he swung his head around, seemingly looking for someone…

Until  those blue eyes fell upon you, singling you out from the crowd.

You were wondering if the spotlight has blinded him yet again, or if he actually could recognize you from the distance. The moment he smiled, you already knew.

 

 

_ “Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she’s a fair lady. _

_ I do spy some marks of love in her.” _

 

 

His smile was intoxicating.

It reminded you of the first time you saw him after being away from Campus, from  the  City, from  the  town, and even from  the  country… but then again you decide to shake off that memory considering he must have been smiling that big since he was just caught  kissing his girlfriend outside of her apartment , h is now-ex who happened to be a very good friend of yours .

You shake off the memory again, finding the smile still plastered on his face as the panel solemnly and formally clapped, as one of them conversed with that beautiful woman from earlier. They asked him a few questions that completely slipped your mind.

 

And yet the whole time he couldn’t stop smiling as if he won the lottery.

 

Then you remember that this was his world –  _ Shakespeare _ .

 

Of course he would be smiling.

 

You place the case down on your lap, completely forgetting the one time he attempted to act out this character from this exact same play in order to help _someone else who was attempting to play Beatrice_ _._ What you didn't realize that maybe "Benedick" is smiling because of "Beatrice" at that exact moment.

 

 

***

 

 

“Hayley, darling,” despite trying to catch his breath, the way the words rolled off his tongue sounded just like honey. Finding time away from the prying eyes of the producers, Tom descended the stairs and found himself taking the tall brunette’s hands as she eagerly received him and allowed him to gingerly place a fond kiss on her pink cheeks.

You stood behind them, having been called from your seat by the one he addressed as Hayley, as you hurried behind her with the attaché case close to your chest. You were trying so hard not to feel like chopped liver, remembering that you weren’t  on  Campus and there was no need for you to play the role that you signed up for.  With the way the Professor conversed with the woman who led you in, something in your head tells you that maybe you don’t really need to hang on to that contract for long. After all, you had to learn two things the hard way that 1) Things aren’t what they seem, and 2) Things do not last forever.

You stood quietly at the sidelines, in the somewhat dimmed lights of the theatre as you watched the two converse intimately, discussing connections about the play and the point of view of the director.

“I know that Jorges is searching for someone who is inexplicably younger than me to play Benedick,” you can hear the Professor’s worried voice just right above you as he stood in front of the stairs, completely ignoring the newcomer who now took the spotlight and was auditioning for the panel. “But I couldn’t help but give it a shot.”

Hayley shook her head. “Don’t you worry about it,  _ sweetheart _ ,” she replied  with the  accent she  shares with your professor friend. You couldn’t help but notice that the perfect harmony of their voices just made the voice inside your head say that maybe they were perfect for each other. And they were both properly English too. “Jorges Denholm is looking for a certain kind of class when it comes to his actors,” she muttered low as she leaned near him and gingerly squeezed his arm. “And considering your experience and your delivery? You might just be what he’s looking for.”

Tom quietly nodded as he bit his lower lip, feeling somewhat comforted with what she said, while Hayley squeezed his arm yet again before stepping aside to let him continue descending the stairs to the main stage.

He stopped in his tracks before he can get down on another step.

“ _ Hello _ ,” there was this audible change in his voice when he saw you rocking on the balls of your feet, wondering when would the awkwardness stop. However, as you look up to sheepishly smile at him, pretending that you weren’t feeling out of place, you suddenly realized that the  _ smile _ was back , the one he was wearing on stage , a smile that made him look as if he already got the part.

“Oh my Lord,” Hayley suddenly exclaimed, covering her mouth, alarmed as she spoke. “I forgot to tell you that  _ she’s here _ !”  She gestured to you as she quickly went down the stairs and quickly stood by your side. “I saw security asking for her credentials and I decided to save her from them .”

“Oh my god,  _ Pumpkin _ ,” Tom quickly piped up as he rushed towards you, looking worried. “I forgot to give you my ID !”

You suddenly feel so small having two  _ giants  _ (literally, since they’re both very tall) fawning over you that you had to raise your hand and say, “Guys,  I’m really  just here to deliver this case .” You gesture as you shook the brown case once.

For a second you saw the smile on the Professor’s face disappear. It was as  though  a cloud formed on top of his head. His blue eyes suddenly seemed hollow as he looked down from your face to the attaché case, seemingly  forgetting  it  was  on his desk in the first place.

“But,” you quickly respond, seeing the change in his demeanor. “That was a brilliant performance, Tom. I’m glad  I saw  it.”

He seemed to have cracked for  a moment, staring at you for a few seconds, seemingly trying to process what you just said.

Hayley had to nudge him once with her elbow to snap him out of it.

“I – I – uhm… thanks … uh… ” he stammered, once again making you wonder how on earth did they let this dork teach in the University. “I – Uh – I really appreciate you bringing the case,  _ sweetie, _ ” he said shyly as he delicately took it from you, unable to hide that smile once more. “How silly of me to actually leave my CV behind,” he winced as he remembered that one instance of being a scatterbrain. “Luckily Miss Atwell here is part of the casting department and she promised to slip this in for me.”

Tom shot his pretty lady friend a sheepish smile – one you barely see in class, and one you didn’t pay attention to during times when you would “keep an eye on him” for your lost best-friend. In response to his haphazard application, Hayley playfully snatched the ten-page-sheet from the tall bumbling actor before mockingly posing to punch him – making Tom flinch upon realizing that Hayley didn’t push through with it and was laughing like a hyena.

Recovering from her self-induced comedy, the lady with the wicked sense of humor grinned at you and said, “Since Thomas here is too scatter-brained to introduce us properly – ” This time she managed to land a punch to his arm, causing the Professor to shoot a small, wounded  _ Hey! _ in her direction. “I’m Hayley and I’m one of Tom’s old mates from  _ waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay  _ back when he was still a broomhead.”

You wished she hadn’t noticed how eagerly you shook her hand. Nor the amused and somewhat  _ relieved _ smile on your face.

“ _ Oh _ ,” you shot her a knowing look, ignoring the slightly upset tone your Professor-Friend commented in after being referred to as a “broomhead”. “A Uni buddy! It’s nice to finally meet you!”

The way Hayley winked at you made you want to  _ question _ your sexuality again.

“And I hear that you’re Tom’s new roommate!” This time it was the Professor’s turn to nudge his friend on her side, earning him a small growl. “ We’ve got a lot to talk about!”

You couldn’t help but giggle with the way Tom had reverted to sending his other female friend dagger looks, that was ignored as Hayley managed to link her arms with yours as she harried you out of the theatre, with your common guy friend frantically walking behind the two of you.

 

 

***

 

 

“The Gastropub is one of the most well-known hole-in-the-wall restaurant that mixes Bostonian and Californian cuisine!” Hayley excitedly exclaimed, as she waved her hands around, describing this  _ new and hip _ restaurant where she wants to take you and your personal bumbling  _ Nutty Professor _ who was too worried to have agreed to let her meet you. You on the other hand, was really starting to enjoy  the beautiful English  brunette’s company, laughing at every turn over every joke she drops, making you realize that she’s some fun, twisted, less-corny, female version of the Professor. As if Tom would ever let you admit that.

“And you should at least meet the owner!” Hayley exclaimed, biting her lip as she crossed the busy street with you and Tom following closely. “He’s not your typical, white-collared, stuck-up chef!”

You made an impressed face at her, almost missing the way Tom rolled his eyes at the statement.

It didn’t seem like a “hole-in-the-wall” as she described it.

It was really more of a pub ; the remodel gave it a more Northern, homey feel. It  had a steady flow of patrons, but not too much to suffocate the atmosphere. Beer taps are lined up in the middle of the bar, decorating it with different colors of delicious concoctions that came from all over the world. An earthy smell that mixed well with the well-fermented aroma of wine and beer surrounded the pub. And of course, it was overridden with the smell of  _ delicious _ food. Though you had no  clue where it was and only had a faint idea of what was served in there through the scrumptious crunch of the nachos, cheese, and beef that some of the more obvious patrons were having.

A small group of football fans were huddled near the television on the other side of the bar, cheering on whenever their chosen team managed to score. A well-dressed man with an impressive five- o'clock shadow on his masculine face, who looked as if he wasn’t probably even over thirty, quickly turned his head the moment Hayley took a seat on one of the tall stools surrounding the bar.

“I know you!” He had a strong Bostonian accent and it lit up the boyish smile on his face.

“Hello , Scott,” Hayley greeted the  gentleman  behind the bar with a flirty wink. “Where’s the chef?”

Scott, still wearing a friendly face as he took a towel off his shoulder, spun around on his heels as he pointed to a back kitchen hidden behind the bar. “Oh you want me to get him ?”

“Psh, leave him be,” Tom spoke up from behind you, wiping his glasses with his handkerchief as he sat beside the other English girl. “He might end up getting cayenne in his eyes like the last time he found out we were here.”

Grinning, you sat beside your Professor-Friend and watched Scott sporting the same sheepish smile that was on your face, as he scrambled to get menus for the three of you. You were surprised that Scott seemed to know Tom as well, and that’s when you realized that maybe your host must have frequented this place a lot during his off hours. Of course, this was a side to him you were not aware of, considering that you met him through different circumstances and different people, and for the past few months you were struggling to keep him at a distance for personal reasons…

Your thoughts were interrupted once the handsome young bartender handed you a menu, only to ask, “Hello there! Are you Haley’s pretty younger sister or …”

Opening your mouth, you find yourself exchanging quick glances with the Professor and the beautiful English girl, when Miss Atwell suddenly hit Scott on the arm and gave him a knowing glare.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Scott suddenly exclaimed, slinking away, as he subtly glanced over to a bewildered-looking Tom who didn’t know how on earth he should shut his  bartender  friend up. “So I guess your dinner’s on him then .”

Scott’s sentence was completed  as Hayley’s hand made a resounding sickening slap on his shoulder, as the woman appeared to be laughing without any sound. Your Professor-Friend on the other hand, suddenly lost his face in the menu as he sank on his seat, looking smaller than his 6’2” frame.

The cute American was wise enough to return to his duties, leaving the three of you to ponder on your meal. The initial transgression was forgotten as the two English beauties beside you began to catch up on their lives. Hayley recounted touring around Europe, Asia, and Australia to accompany the International Production of a very famous musical she’s involved with as director; and Thomas recalling his University Exploits and meeting some famous authors over the past few years during a Literary Convention in New York where he always had participated.

You sat there silent, listening, as the three of you waited for your orders: plate of deep-fried bacon-wrapped fries with a side salad for Hayley, deep-fried cheesy ramen bombs with lean pork on the side for the Prof, and you decided to settle for something not-so-extraordinary like a deep-fried breaded spam burger with regular fries on the side. Despite your mouth watering as the orders finally arrived, you found yourself thirsting for something more than the  root beer  floats served to you by a naughtily grinning Scott… as you were immersed in these stories you’ve never heard before about your temporary Landlord.

This was their world now. This was a world you weren’t really familiar… considering that there was only a few sides of the Prof you’ve been seeing over the past few years they’ve been friends. Just when you think a person could be three-dimensional, you were there to discover that there are more complex layers to a man you’ve known for more than five years.

Of course he’d be complex than three dimensional… he’s no ordinary man at all. And you slowly learn about this through Hayley’s stories.

“All the lying through my teeth just to get you onstage for  _ Twelfth Night _ back in the day,” Hayley mused as she dipped a greasy bacon-wrapped fry in ketchup, before popping it in her mouth. “You remember how I had to flirt with a Student Assistant just so you and Benny could climb that darned clock tower?”

Tom had to pause on chewing on a deep-fried ball as he grabbed a float and drank from it. “Don’t remind me about that damned clock tower.” He barely even noticed (or pretended not to) as you mouthed the familiar name  _ Benny _ .

Noticing the concern and bafflement on your face, Hayley leaned on the table to get a better look at you, considering the lanky-yet-hulking figure that was blocking the two of you from getting a good conversation.

“If you ever thought that your Professor here,” she wrinkled her nose in the direction of the supposedly-poised academic who was currently stuffing his face with cheese , “Was eternally all straight-laced without any funny bone in his body, you should have seen  him back in University .”

An eyebrow shot up over your eye, but a smile began to play on the side of your mouth.

“Hayley …”

The brunette looked as if she was enjoying this too much as she began to swing her legs on her bar stool. “Your Professor here …”

“She isn’t my student, Atwell,” Tom now said crossly, trying to block her view of you once more. Despite seemingly sounding so cross, there was a small rise in his tone that just indicated that he seemed to be panicking.

The supposedly taller woman formed a perfect “O” with her red lips. “ _ Oh really, _ ” she mused, her dark eyes sparkling. Seeing the way you tried to hide a snicker, Hayley waved her hand, seemingly dismissing her previous statement. “Oh calm down, Thomas,” she muttered, taking another sip from her straw. “I knew she  _ wasn’t. _ ”

This time both your eyebrows have attempted to shoot off your head.

“Anyway,” Hayley muttered, returning to her story. “Tom here used to do  _ a lot of silly things _ before he became the tenured Professor you know. Like for example …”

You released the straw of your drink with a pop. “The clock tower?”

For some reason Tom quickly turned to you, blocking Hayley yet again. “I swear those were just silly things you do when you were young,  _ pumpkin _ .”

Hayley’s eyes widened at the mention of the nickname you swore you didn’t want to hear again (maybe in private, but not in public, for God’s sake), as Tom almost dropped whatever he was holding at that moment seeing the dagger looks forming on your face.

“I dismantled the clock on the tower,” the Professor murmured under his breath, dropping his head in some sort of shame.

You couldn’t hide the ridiculous smile on your face now as you had to cover your mouth. Hayley on the other hand, couldn’t stop giggling.

“Alright alright,” Tom was giggling himself now, as he brushed off the crumbs from his hands. “I’m not going to pin this one on Ben .” He turned to you, addressing the curious look on your face. “He was my roommate back in Uni,” There was a sparkle in his baby blue eyes, seemingly making him nostalgic. “Fine chap with the greatest ideas, a few years older than me and ended up with an acting gig in Germany, while teaching Classic Lit in Göttingen at the same time.”

Hayley shifted on her seat and crossed her legs. “Those two,” she motioned to Tom, “were inseparable. Met them through the required Classic Courses. They loved doing the most outrageous things – from arguing with their professors so vigorously _that one eventually took an early retirement _to holding live, **_LOUD_** reenactments of Shakespeare on the campus courtyard.   **AT THREE IN THE MORNING. _WHILE INTOXICATED._** ”

You weren’t surprised. Tom caught you rolling your eyes at the mention of the Bard and he somewhat replied to you with a bashful smile.

“And then there was that one instance,” Hayley continued, picking a piece of bacon wrap from her fry. “When they got so drunk  during a campus event and they decided that they were going to get the clock tower working again.”

Tom groaned, halfway through his drink. “I would have blamed the Lager we had that night and the fact that it was Oktoberfest…” He shook his head comically. “But for old time’s sakes – I won’t.”

“So I decided to distract the Student Assistant who was working in the Tower that night,” Hayley continued.

Tom scratched the back of his head, ruffling his curls. “And Ben and I snuck through one of the back windows and made our way to the topmost floor. I fashioned myself as an engineer during that time, creating my own props for our theatre displays, so I thought I could make a name for myself and get that famed tower ticking again.”

The blond winced. “Alas, I ended up destroying it.”

This time around, your laughter  echoed  with Hayley’s as the shadow of a smile on your Professor-Friend’s face began to grow as he watched you both trying to maintain your composure, despite being in a rowdy bar with men cheering on a football match.

Wiping her hands in order to wipe tears from her eyes, Hayley was struggling to keep her composure, bringing a whole perky side to the seemingly glamorous and straightforward casting director.

“God,” you exclaimed. “I knew you had a dark side, Thomas. But I didn’t expect this !”  You  gestured figuratively to the comic-filled atmosphere brought about by an old story that was one for the records. “I had no idea you wanted to be an engineer.”

Tom cocked his head to the side, wearing a smug little grin. “More of a mad scientist, I suppose,” he murmured, grinning at Hayley who started giggling again. “I did a lot of silly things in college, but believe it or not ,” he exclaimed, raising his food-stained hands. “I was actually the well- _ behaved _ one.”

Covering her eyes, Hayley muttered, “Don’t get me started with the one time you and  _ Chris _ got drunk before a debate…”

You found yourself muttering the name  _ Chris _ as you watched the Professor’s face light up again.

However, despite this silent exchange, the tall brunette was busy chuckling to herself as she continued recalling that one event. “And can you believe it ,” she gestured to you, as you struggled to nod despite having your mouth full with spam and fries. “They were supposed to go against  _ Ben _ who apparently…”

This time it was Tom who dropped his head on his crossed arms flat on the bar , trying to hide his giggling.

“…fell asleep  at  the podium before Tom could finish his argument!   He was on the floor as soon as Tom finished! ”

The face you made at your Professor-friend was so priceless, that it made Hayley end up guffawing again as the subject of the discussion raised his hands up, trying to somewhat defend himself, saying that they were young and they were in college and that was  the  time in your life when you did a lot of stupid things.

“And I thought I was black sheep material back in high school,” you said disbelievingly as you had another sip of your float, noticing that you three weren’t alone on your discussion, as the barista-slash-waiter have moved closer towards your trio, listening in as he pretended to clean your part of the bar.

“Oh I’ve heard of that story,” Scott piped in, still somewhat shying away with a small smile on his scruffy face. “My brother  _ loves  _ telling that story.”

Running the back of his hand unabashedly against the surface of his nose, the supposedly now-poised Educator straightened his back and looked pointedly at the younger American. “Speaking of the devil,” the Englishman exclaimed. “Where is the  _ boss? _ ”

“Probably heard our footsteps and went into hiding,” Hayley spoke with a bit of a smirk on her face, as she drew ketchup circles on her plate using a fry stripped of its bacon. She noticed  the  worried look on your face, considering the change in her demeanor so she ended up grinning at you as she wrinkled her nose.

“Yellowbelly boys,” she  loudly  whispered in your direction, leaning close to your lanky seatmate as if she wished that the two of them would swap seating places so she can chat with you.

Tom on the other hand leaned closer to the barista behind the bar and murmured through the side of his mouth, “You better get  _ him _ out of here before she ambushes the kitchen .”

You heard the  clang  of utensils. You turned to look at Hayley wearing a flat, sarcastic look that was pointedly aimed at the two boys on either side of the bar. “I heard that!”

Luckily, Scott was fast to act when he suddenly picked up a plate of neatly-arranged mozzarella sticks on a bed of greens and onions, gracefully shoving it on the bar directly under Hayley’s nose.

“Compliments of the  _ chef _ ,” the  blonde  subtly winked at the English woman, before sharing a cheeky smile with the Professor. “He’d like to apologize that he couldn’t come out and greet you lot just yet,” Scott says as he refills Hayley’s mug of root beer.

There was a sparkle in her eyes and a particular grin on her face as she gracefully received the mug of soda,  making  you to wonder who  the  _ chef _ was. And as much as it gave you relief that this beautiful woman, who could easily converse with that one man you once considered as the  _ most rotten _ (despite being the  _ most handsome _ – and you wouldn’t dare admit it) in the Drama Department, seemed to hide a secret as  _ big _ as  _ yours… _ You couldn’t help but wonder who was behind this homely yet whimsical hidden world of the Gastropub.

Apparently, you didn’t have to wonder for so long.

“Well,” Hayley muttered, looking at her refilled mug as Scott moved to refill the mugs you and your Professor-Friend were holding. “Tell him I’d prefer his complement in person,” the brunette mused as she took a sip from the frothy float. “After all, he still owes me a dance .”

 

“ _ I heard that. _ ”

 

Suddenly a clamor erupted from the huge group of burly jocks watching football on the other side of the table as a man emerged from the hidden kitchen somewhere beyond the bar, joining them on the scene. The four of you turn to look only to find this good-looking American chap with a boyish smile on his bearded face making his way towards you, with an apron tied around his waist, somewhat  complementing  the tight grey shirt he was wearing.     

“Well look what the cat dragged  in ,” Hayley exclaimed, putting a hand on her waist. Despite the nature of her dialogue,  the smile on her face was  genuine. You swore you saw that kind of smile before.

“Is that how you thank me for the free  root beer floats ?” The pretty blond with  the  heavenly pectorals and mouth-watering biceps shot back as he leaned on the bar to grin at her. Even Scott was giggling on your side of the bar as he exchanged amused looks with your host.

Hayley rolled her eyes and booped the man on the nose.

“I know you can do better  _ Christopher _ , and ,” the woman wrinkled her own nose and looked at  he sudden appearance of red powder on her fingertip. “What on earth is this?!”

He whom you would have dubbed as the “bodybuilding chef” was wearing a cheeky grin as he watched your female companion look bewilderedly at the red specks on her finger. “Why don’t you give it a little lick and see how  _ I _ taste like ?”

Next thing you know, Hayley pushed the possibly-500-pound man and he went skidding over to your side of the bar, gripping the wooden table to prevent himself from slipping down the ground.

“So unladylike !”   He paused upon looking up, finding himself looking at an Englishman who just finished his last ramen bomb, trying so hard not to laugh and spew cheese all over his face.

“Well if it isn’t Doubting Thomas!” The chef exclaimed with glee, patting your host happily on the shoulder. “I haven’t seen you for a long while!”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Did you use too much Sriracha and Baking Powder again, Meatball?”

"Well I'm sorry Professor Breakfast," Chris exclaims, making a fancy dance with his floured hands, ignoring the way his brother Scott was shaking his head in disbelief behind him, complementing the bewildered look on Hayley’s face as she watched the chef bounce around. "I'm not English, Fancy, and Perfect Cupcakes Soufflé all the time . "

The perfect American specimen had to stop in the middle of his silly monkey dance when he realized that you were looking at him while sampling his famous  root beer  float. “Well, it seems like we have a new recruit .” He murmured as he looked at you, those deep blue eyes gleaming as he licked his lips and moved towards you.

You didn’t have time to back away from the counter or raise your eyebrows when you could hear Hayley exhaling an “ _Oh_ _brother_ ,” from the other side of your Professor-Friend who just subtly yet sternly _cleared_ his throat.

The chef stopped in his tracks before exchanging awkward glances with Tom. It didn’t click until another second when he turned to look at you again and found himself muttering a quick “ _ Oh _ .”

Next thing you know, Christopher was slapping Thomas on the shoulder as the latter suddenly looked as if he were splashed with cold water with those blue eyes all wide and bright as if he was a deer cornered in headlights as he playfully shoved the chef backwards.

You watched them wondering if things would be different if you met Christopher first.  He was  _ quite _ the specimen. He was the kind of boy you’d have a feverish crush on if you were in high school. He was the literal kind of guy who would be doing gymnastics at one period, then running track and field during another. Next thing you know, he’s the star of the football team and he has two or three girls clinging on his arm. And despite all that, he has the time to do charity drives, study hotel and restaurant management in University, and  _ learn about catering all the same time _ . And with his delicious good looks, a well-built body that any regular man with self-respect could die for, and humor that would liven up any party…

And the fact that he’s actually a  _ chef _ and can cook up a sumptuous meal like the spam burger fusion you were eating now.

You would be insane enough to say no to this rugged Adonis, with his steely blue eyes, sculpted arms, formed biceps, and the fact that he could easily seduce any self-respecting intelligent woman with his talented cooking skills .

But as you watched the Prof’s cheeks turning red in the dimmed lights of the pub, you knew that wouldn’t be the case.

 

 

***

 

 

“So you’ve actually done promotions for Jameson & Sons as well as Premiere Global?” Hayley exclaimed, sounding very impressed. “Those are  _ big _ international companies . How long have you been working with them?”

You  grinned happily and linked your fingers together. “Well,” you started, trying to ignore the fact that you and the English woman decided to get to know each other a lot better, as the three boys moved nearer the beer taps to update themselves with sports, cars, and whatever it is that guys usually  talk about. But this kind of arrangement was more of Hayley’s idea – since she was the one who took her third refill of root beer and dragged you away from the trio who were starting to have a three-man speed debate about the newest Superhero Franchise movie that came out a week ago.

“I’ve been in publishing for quite a while,” you say as you try to finish what’s left of your fries. “I’d say around,” you began to count on your fingers. “5-6 years. It wasn’t  until  lately  that  I started the Graduate Program when I started doing freelance promotions.”

Nodding, the brown-haired English woman reached out from a fresh plate of fries that Chris personally served the two of you before grabbing the two boys for a nice round of beer. “Oh yes,” she exclaimed, looking interested. “I do remember now! Thomas did tell me! He said how it was helping you make ends meet while you were trying to finish your  Masters  in order to meet the managerial requirements in one of those Fortune 500 companies you were freelancing for.”

You tried your best not to look shocked. It was a detailed description after all. “Well that’s one way to put it . ” You muttered quietly with a smile, as you put your rootbeer down. “I don’t mean to sound prying or anything, but…” You purse your lips and lean on the bar. “What else did Tom say about me?”

To your surprise, Hayley just chuckled.

“Oh he said a lot of things about you, _pumpkin_ ,” she exclaimed, causing you to widen your eyes in horror and shock. Sensing the panic going through your brain, Hayley quickly backtracked and said, “ _Great_ things, by the way. How you were so talented and how you were so driven. How you were a hardworking woman who would stop at nothing to see her goals fulfilled…”

The woman whose resume would probably astound you was listing down every positive aspect of your life and your career – at least those supposedly publicly known to your consent – as supposedly expressed through the words of  _ another person _ who you never thought would regard you in such an esteemed manner.

“…and despite every single thing I’ve mentioned,” Hayley commented, smiling proudly. ” _ He _ says how easy you were to talk to, and would brag about your wicked sense of humor .”   She took a sip from her drink, trying to hide her chuckling. “Considering how  _ blatantly _ dry he tends to be sometimes especially when  he’s stark raving mad about his passions , but he really holds you in high regard .”

Suddenly , Hayley stopped speaking and color began to drain from her face. You start to wonder what it is you have said when –

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “I did it again didn’t I? I overshared again .”

You couldn’t hide your smile now but you began to wave a hand in her face.

“No, no,” you quickly and defensively try to remedy the situation, but the smile on Hayley’s face was comforting enough to say that you haven’t offended her at all. “I just didn’t expect to hear all of that from you,” you fidget nervously. “You know,” you began to tiptoe around your words. “As someone who’s very close to him.”

Tucking away a lock of hair from her face, Hayley began to laugh again. “I’m not that close to him!” she exclaimed, waving a hand as if to dismiss the idea. “Well we may have been close mates back in College, but things change and some things _never change_ and then you realize that they’re still your mates despite how many years it has been.” She smiled at you. “I’m glad to know that at least our ‘Professor Breakfast’ is in good company.”

You gave her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I’ve been hoping to make that kind of first impression .”

To your surprise, Hayley took a while to reply. Well she couldn’t if she hadn’t had a mouthful of her third refill of  root beer and a bunch of fries shoved down her mouth. But once she has composed herself, you couldn’t believe what came out of her mouth.

“You know,” there was an obvious change in the volume of Hayley’s voice. “We actually have met before.”

It was your turn to  take a gulp  of root beer.

“Really?” You spurted out once you stopped coughing out the deluge of carbonated liquid that you shoved down your throat.

Hayley grinned. There was something  adorable  about her recalling things from memory. You wonder if the Professor had this same thought too , even from before. “Yeah, during one of my productions – I believe it was  _ The Taming of the Shrew…” _ she wrinkled her nose. “ That was,what,  six years ago?”

You blinked.

You remember the play, but the event? Barely. You remember it being black tie with Tom’s hair being all golden and fluffed out – then you remember  _ who _ was playing with it using her fingers with the red nail polish . Then you remember it was one sickening event that wasn’t really so sickening to your memory before compared to how acidic it felt now. No wonder you somewhat forgot about it.

“Oh my God, right!” you exclaim as you covered your mouth. You turned to look at Hayley with wide eyes, as her smile only got bigger. “Yeah, Tom handed me the tickets. I remember now.”  Indeed. He handed you those tickets in a black envelope while he was wearing the dashing black tux suit, and this was after he stepped out of the limousine to pick you up, and that was when the image only became clearer in your brain as you wonder _what_ made you forget it in the first place.

Sickening feelings were not good for spam burgers and  root beer .

Trying to dispel the supposedly horrid parts of the memory (according to you, at least), you grin awkwardly back at Hayley and began to run your hand through your hair as you leaned on the bar. “It’s such a shame we didn’t get to talk?”

The English woman laughed again. “You were…” she hesitates as she looks upward, seemingly trying to find the right word. “Preoccupied.” You find yourself raising an eyebrow. As much as you didn’t completely want to remember that event (despite how dashing Thomas looked with his black bowtie, black  undershirt , and that healthy fluff of golden hair), you tried to comb through your memory as you tried to remember why you appeared  _ preoccupied _ .

Luckily for you, Hayley read the confusion on your face and gave you the answer you were looking for.  “ Actually , you were with someone else . ”

You rolled your eyes. Of course you barely remembered Tom and his then girlfriend Lis, who was supposedly your “bestest-best friend in the universe”. Aside from the fact that you actually remembered what the Professor was wearing, you could barely remember anything else since that was basically a date for you and your  _ then-boyfriend _ , that lying, cheating scum who treated you the way Mattie did. Well, not even as close as what Mattie did , but the verbal abuse could amount to that. And eventually, as a part of your healing process, you mentally erased everything that had to do with your ex including that night you went to see  _ The Taming of the Shrew _ with him, your bestest-best friend in the universe and her dashing boyfriend who was also a Professor. Not that you cared…

“Oh...” You blinked as if you were waking up from a bad dream. “ _ Oh right _ .”

Hayley’s smile melted a bit as she recognized  a dazed look on your face. “And Tom was…” This time, it was her who was tiptoeing around her words.

You wrinkled your nose. “Yeah, he was still with Lis.” You smile, remembering that one event you almost forgot. “Yes, yes, I remember now.”

You sigh. You struggled to at least piece up whatever was left of that memory in your brain of the night of the play and you remember Tom’s laughter . Of course you remember how he laughed. You wouldn’t say he laughed more before anything could have happened, but you could not say he smiled less nowadays. It was a different time. But then you remember how he walked down the stairs hand-in-hand with Lis , and she was so beautiful that night. She had her long hair tied up in a bun and was wearing the most beautiful red dress she ever owned, matching with the red polish on her fingernails. You remember admitting that night how your good friend was happy with her then boyfriend, and for some reason, Tom seemed to be the star of the night . That’s when you remember that you handed him the finest bottle of aged Riesling as a congratulatory gift for being granted tenure in the University.

That’s when everything became clear:  _ The Taming of the Shrew _ and the dinner treat after was his celebration for that exact event. And he made sure it was a double date with you and your then-flame .

“He was…” you commented out loud, lost in the memory. “Well he was happier then .”

Suddenly, you heard someone beside you clucking her tongue.

 

_ Tut-tut _ …

 

You turned to look at  the brunette sitting beside you who was finishing her drink, smiling at you. With the sight of Hayley, you were suddenly back in the present, reminding you that everything was in the past.

“Oh darling, I beg to disagree . ” Hayley’s words  had weight, pulling you from the cloud and back to earth. “I think, no. I  _ know _ he’s happier now.”

You blink.

You blink again.

You blink at her twice in disbelief.

Something in you seemed to retort about that notion, about the Professor’s  _ happiness _ , but it sounded more like a shrewd little voice that was annoying to listen to. But there was another voice talking in your head telling you that you may not be an expert on Thomas’s happiness, but here is a friend of his who knew him longer than you did, and seem to say otherwise.

“You really think so?”  Your voice was softer than usual .

“ _ Oh, _ ” The way Hayley smiled reminded you of the mystery found on the Mona Lisa. “I am  _ positive _ .”

 

***

 

 

Just when you thought that you were safe in the little bubble that you and Hayley created, you probably wouldn’t be relieved to find out that the boys weren’t really talking about movies or cards or what boys usually talk about.

Whatever it is they talk about .

Once they gained distance and have established the look of getting wasted on beer, you barely even noticed that subtle glance that would look at you every now and then wondering if you were feeling alright, if you were feeling comfortable with someone new, if you were impressed by  _ his _ friends .

That’s when a knowing voice interrupted  _ his _ train of thought.

“So…” The Sous Chef of the Gastropub muttered, sipping through his own mug of beer, trailing the direction of Thomas’s eyes. “That’s  _ her _ , huh ? ”

Tom had to roll his eyes and wave a hand  dismissively  at the man’s face.

“Will you stop being so obvious, Meatball?” he spoke in a distressed tone, leaning close to the bar so only Chris and Scott could hear. “It was a miracle that I actually got her out of the flat…”

“What were you two doing?” The way Chris wiggled his eyebrows made Tom turn beet red. The Englishman suddenly showed a sheer amount of brute force to punch his friend on his beefy bicep, causing Chris to moan in feigned pain. “Ow! Jeez Thomas,” he whined. “Someone’s been working out…”

The evil smile was on the  chef’s  face again. “If you know what I mean…”

Veins seemed to be ready to pop on the side of Tom’s neck.

“ _ Will you shush?!! _ ”

Even Scott couldn’t stop giggling. You two girls who were initially all locked up in their worlds turned to look at the two, only to sport absurd smiles before going back to chatting in your little corner of man-shaming. Or what they thought you were doing.

“Well,” Chris finally spoke up when he believed that the Englishman has calmed down. “She seems very nice . ” Pretending to get some nuts from underneath the bar, Chris manages to lean closer to the sulky-looking Professor so he can whisper in his ear. “And honestly?  _ A breath of fresh air _ .”

Tom made a face at him that neither man could interpret.

“What?!” The chef exclaimed, pulling his apron off and setting it aside. “She  isn’t  as mean as you said she  is. ”

The Professor managed to shoot Chris with a sharp glare before looking back into his mug, contemplating another drink. “I never said she was mean,” Tom muttered. “I don’t even know  _ where _ did you even get the notion that she was mean ! ”

He looked back up to find the American giving him a knowing  glare .

“Ok ok ok,” Tom winced, raising his hands in reply. “Maybe a little bit withdrawn…”

His brother snorted from his corner. “Well lucky you,” Scott started, leaning on a hand as he sat on the other side of the bar, nursing his beer. “Isn’t it great that things turned out for the better?”

Chris had to point at his younger sibling and make an agreeable face, only to chuckle and turn it down when his English friend sighed on his side of the table, seemingly deep in thought.

Tom started talking on a serious note, causing the two brothers to listen carefully to whatever he had to say. “It could be a stroke of luck, but I wouldn’t look at it as if it was as trivial as that . ” He muttered, trying hard not to look in your direction. “After all,” He sighed. “Things change…”

Chris made a face that resembled both a smirk and an agreeing grin. “Well things do change,” he exclaimed, as he stopped himself from making a tower out of the fries that Tom and Scott had been ignoring for about twenty minutes now. “And for starters, I don’t even hear about  _ her _ anymore…” He said cryptically, a small smug smirk forming on the side of his mouth.

Tom squinted at him. “ _ Her? _ ” Tom snorted. He tapped his glass twice and murmured, “Oh you mean,  _ the ex. _ ”

Chris snapped his fingers and pointed at him.

“Well that’s what you call improvement , ” he exclaimed as he waved at one of the men across the bar who were losing their minds once their team scored a goal. “And hey!” The chef exclaimed as he spread his arms wide. “You’re living the dream ! ”

Tom’s mind however, was floating somewhere else again. “She’s probably off somewhere honeymooning with her husband . ”  H e dismissively waved his hand and shook his head, as if he’s shaking off a bad memory.

Chris however, was the first to point it out. “Here you go again, my friend.”

T om shook his head and grinned sheepishly at the owner of the restaurant. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop. I did decide to move on.” He suddenly found himself nursing his own beer, rubbing his thumb at the surface of the mug as he smiled to himself. “ To be honest,  I think things are in my favor this time . ”

Chris raised an eyebrow at his Professor-Friend.

Tom rubbed his hands together and started talking as if it was a lecture . It was in the same manner he explained things – impassioned, focused, as if he was delivering a speech. “Things seem to be simple . We’re sort of living under one roof, she’s collaborating with me and I’m collaborating with her …”

He didn’t notice, but Chris just turned to Scott and mouthed the word  _ collaborating _ , causing his younger brother to  guffaw . However, Tom’s just lost in his thoughts again.

“All I need is just that one spark,” Tom snapped his fingers. “And then maybe…”

He shook his head desperately as he found himself subtly stealing a glance over at you listening intently  to Hayley as she talked about all the productions she’s ever been in since College and how she ended up as a casting agent.

“After everything that had happened , ”  he  sighed, watching the way you laughed at Hayley’s stories as you both sat on the counter. “How can I have a chance with  _ that, _ ” he subtly exclaimed to his friend who was still trying to deal with his made-up snack tower. The tone in his voice was changing into something more  _ lighthearted. _ “I’m not as beefy and bulked up like someone like you…”

Chris made a face and snorted at the sudden change of Tom’s subject and tone of speaking as he shook the salt off his hands before ceremoniously reaching over and squeezing one of Thomas’ pectorals through his shirt. “Says the guy who just bruised my arm.”

The man makes a hilarious expression that looked as if he drank an entire bottle of apple cider. “Hey,” he barked at Chris before swiping the bigger man’s hand off.

The chef raises his hands, causing his brother to laugh behind him, as the Professor shakes his head bewilderedly at his friend, although a small candid smile was forming on his face… “You have got to be kidding me, Meatball.”

Hands still up in the air, Chris was muttering something in the lines of  _ Chill bro, I won’t do it again _ without making a sound…

…when he suddenly moved to grab and squeeze the Englishman’s pectoral again.

Suddenly, three men – a professional, decorated Chef who was close to earning his first Michelin Star, along with his entrepreneur brother, was slapping shoulders and heads with a tenured Professor from a distinguished University.

“What  _ the hell  _ are they doing now,” you sigh exasperatedly as you see Tom and Chris acting like two deranged females in a play, fighting over one guy, slapping at each other with the palms of their hands.

“Boys being boys,” Hayley snorted before bursting into laughter the same way you did.

 

 

***

 

 

“Hello girls,” was the first thing you heard from Chris once the three men were done convening on their own side of the bar. With the tone he used it in, you weren’t sure if he was being the smooth motherfucker that he is known for, or he has choked on a lemon and squealed on it.

You find yourself grinning sheepishly at him, as Hayley just casually rolled her eyes at the specimen. However, you felt yourself shifting on your seat when you were greeted by a warm smile from the Professor as he assumed his space beside you, keeping quiet as he tucked his legs together to lean on the bar, ignoring the cheesy grin on Chris’s face.

“I have one more entertainment for this night !” The chef started, before suddenly turning to his brother who was peeking out from the flap behind the bar that hid the kitchen, shaking his head vigorously, causing his older brother to double take.

“Okay make that entertainment five minutes delayed,” he exclaimed, grabbing his apron as he sprinted for the kitchen. All that was left were the three of you staring blankly at a slightly empty and dirty bar front, with a thinning crowd of football watchers and a few quieter patrons serving as your background.

The way Tom managed to break the silence wasn’t helping either.

“So,” he asked in a manner that made you forget that he was a smooth-talking motherfucker when he’s on campus. “What – uh – um – ” He coughs a bit “What were you girls talking about?”

The looks that you and Hayley exchanged were priceless.

You both clearly tried to stifle a smile, although you tried so hard to quickly answer his question since you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance once he starts sporting those puppy dog eyes that clearly indicate that he was being somewhat mocked .

“Well,” you started, leaning back as far as you can on the stool as you adorably tilted your head.

“You know,” Hayley chimed in, waving her hand around.

“Girly stuff,” you added, winking at the English woman.

“Yes, of course,” the brunette replied, taking a glass of water from the counter, nodding supportively. “Girly stuff.”

The pouty lip and the probing blue eyes you received from the 6’2” man was also priceless enough.

But before Tom could open his mouth, there was a shuffling that got their attention and they were treated to a well-sculpted blond man with a neat haircut (that perfectly complements his 5 o’clock shadow) emerge from the kitchen, carrying a three plates of what seemed to be a churro-based cheesecake.

“Complements of the chef,” Chris exclaimed, his blue eyes sparkling as he bit his lip, placing down the desserts in front of his honored guests. You quickly scramble to get your phone so you can quickly snap a piece of the masterpiece while Tom was cooing in awe as he received three forks to distribute among the three of you.

He looked at the brunette English girl once before placing a red fruit on top of hers. “With a cherry on top.” Hayley grinned back at him in reply as she received a fork from him, as she tucked away a lock of brown hair, saying nothing.

Scott reappeared to delicately top both yours and the  Professor’s  cakes with a piece of cherry, as he cleverly hid a knowing grin that only you and Tom could see. You quickly turn to your Professor-Friend, wearing an expression that seemed to ask that one question you wanted to ask without saying it loud, and to your surprise, Tom seemed to understand what you were trying to say as he shrugged his shoulders and sported a shocked expression that mirrored yours.

You were about to glance  in the direction of the casting director and the chef once more when Tom subtly nudged your shoulder with his upper arm, signaling for you to just look at Scott who was barely keeping it in as well.

Seemingly locked in each other’s smiles as Hayley eventually decided to make a move and take a bite of her own cake; she looked up to find Chris still mindlessly grinning at her, watching her eat.

Almost swallowing the cherry in surprise on Hayley’s part, the idyll between the two were interrupted by the loud cheering from the football side of the bar, causing Chris to look away wrinkling his nose and smiling to himself.

“I’ll …” He muttered mindlessly supposedly to you three, although his eyes were fixed on the brunette. “I’ll be back.”

He floated away to the group of rowdy fans, walking on cloud nine.

For a few moments, there was a din of silence amongst you four, despite the fact that Scott’s smile seemed to ring louder than anything else that made noise in the room.

The Englishwoman then made a futile attempt to pick the cherry stem out of her mouth and flicked it carelessly on her plate the moment Chris disappeared back into the kitchen. "Chocolate on his cheek!" She gestured disbelievingly at the man not in their presence. "Every bloody time he brings the desserts!"

The sole blonde Englishman exchanges looks with the chef's brother and both shrug. "Well..."

Hayley chuckles under her breath as she looks at you, before taking in another piece of the delivered treat. "It's like he wants me to lick it off his cheek . "

You drop your jaw remembering the last time you were promised strawberry cheesecake. You try not to look at your seatmate who straightened up on his stool and was seemingly about to break into one of his famed lectures on Keats.

"Seriously , Hayles?" Tom spits out in disbelief. "Can't you catch --" You, Scott, and the brunette almost jumped out of your seats when the Professor suddenly lost his poise and started sniggering like someone who just discovered the Three Stooges. "I say," Tom exclaims, trying to catch his breath. “If you seriously still can't tell, you're  oblivious ."

The taller brunette makes this cute pout at your Professor-Friend and starts poking her fork in the specially-crafted dessert the hot Bostonian chef just made. "You're too cold, Thomas."

The resident drama king raised his hands as if to free himself from the situation as he mutters, "It's just an observation."

You subtly look at his direction as you make a face nobody seems to notice.

"Well," you speak up. "It does sound very familiar."

You felt the body beside you suddenly turn very stiff. Without looking at him, the sound of his voice sounded very defensive.

Ignoring Hayley's laughter, Tom started playing with the remnants of his own cherry stem as he muttered from the side of his mouth, “I’m sorry?”

You tried so hard not to snort, but damn son, you knew that this will give you away.

You didn’t really know the meaning of subtlety as you decided that the long fingers swishing around the straw was becoming so annoying, causing you to pry it from the Professor’s hands.

“ _ Nothing, _ ” you say without thinking as you popped it right into your drink, taking a sip through it so he wouldn’t have a chance to question you.

You had no idea what shade of red Tom’s face turned into since you wouldn’t dare look in his direction.

 

 

***

 

 

Eventually, your time at the Gastropub had to come to a close.

It was actually Hayley who egged to the two of you to go , considering that Tom was supposedly having a callback interview with the casting department (“Surprise! I didn’t tell you about the call I took earlier while you were choking on your  root beer !”) the next morning. Hayley said she wasn’t going to give anything away, but Thomas decided to humble himself down and say that anything could happen. But with the way that Hayley winked at you, it felt as if maybe your friend had a higher percentage of a chance to become Benedick.

Chris kissed your hand goodbye as he ignored the way Tom rolled his eyes when he saw the gesture. “And as Professor Breakfast would do it,” he took your hand and placed a small peck on your knuckles. “I bid you adieu.”

You were positive that Tom slammed a friendly palm on the back of the man’s spine. Chris pretended to cough until Hayley managed to elbow him in the stomach. You suddenly wonder if this group of friends were so used to the “friendly abuse” that maybe you should start punching your Professor-Host on the shoulder too .

“You look after him for us, kiddo,” Chris called out before he went back into the kitchen. “He’s a delicate one.” You’re lucky you didn’t see the glare Tom gives his students during deliberations, this time aimed at his friend.

Hayley politely kissed Tom’s cheek goodbye and did the same with you. She was clearly red in the face as she said that she’d stay behind with Scott and Chris for their Jukebox Hour. Tom clearly wanted to say something, but it just came out as a giggle, causing Hayley to slap his arm. You found yourself watching them, wondering if you ever had a friendship like theirs that could last a decade .

Once the goodbyes were said and done the you two found yourself walking quietly down the road.

Your head wasn’t exactly quiet either, as your mind was spinning around the revelations that have been made in Chris’s little Gastropub. Not to mention about how much you realized that whatever you initially thought about the Professor being a big, old dirty trickster out to manipulate the contract to his advantage was nothing more but a little twist in your imagination.

Trying to shut out the guilt and the awkwardness, you almost stumble on a wrongly placed brick set on the sidewalk, causing you to catch your balance and notice how the Professor had already had a hand out to catch you in case you actually fell.

“What’s bothering you?” He whispered quietly, those blue eyes teeming with worry.

You find yourself holding on to his arm after the little tumble, as you grin at him as you managed to get back on your feet, shoving your hands in your pockets as you find him taking the attaché case that you brought with you all the way to the gastropub.

“Nothing really,” you mutter, looking forward. “I was just thinking about how brilliant you were back there in the theatre.”

You heard him chuckle as he lagged behind you a bit, catching up to you after running a hand in his curls.

“Well that’s flattering,” he cheekily mentioned your nickname, causing you to smile in the darkness. “But nothing’s really written in ink yet.”

You find yourself snorting as you both realize you both passed a  cupcake bar that was closing up a few minutes after nine o’ clock.

“I was thinking,” you started as you realized how he was walking slowly so you can catch up to his long legs’ big strides. “If you do get the part , which you probably will, does this mean I’ll see you less around campus?”

The face he made at you was something mix of disbelief and a smug little grin. “Of course not!” he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose at you. “Maybe I’ll cut down on the extra  office hours , set schedules more in the morning, so I can attend rehearsals during late afternoons and do the theatre runs in the evening.”

He kicked a pebble off the pavement. “After all, this isn’t like those big productions like they hold  at  the Donmar .”

You pulled your jacket around you tighter. “The productions held by Denholm’s Company is almost comparable to the quality provided by Cheek by Jowl.” You turned to look at him. “If it isn’t red carpet worthy enough, your appearance and experience _if you are cast in this play_ would probably be enough to get you cast in a Donmar production,” you muttered, clearly aware of the bashful smile spreading on his angled face. “ _Sir_ ,” you added with much formality, causing the Professor to chuckle.

Unabashed by the way he seemed to have responded, you turned to grin at the pavement as you waited for him to calm down amidst all his chuckling.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you find yourself muttering.

You turned to look and found a funny expression on his face. “Do what exactly?” He seemingly inquired, stooping adorably as he slowed on his walk even further.

You find yourself sighing and leaning on the back of a bench situated on the sidewalk near this park that was halfway back to the Professor’s flat. It’s the same  park  where Tom loves to jog during early mornings, where he’d meet you and Lis after you drop her off come Saturday mornings after she spends the night over at your own flat back in the day. It happened to be the same park where you sat down to think in confusion after Tom rejected your initial proposal for the Rosencratz Scholarship.

The beautiful thing now was, after days and days of rainy afternoons, this beautiful smell of earth and damp ground effuse in the night air, causing you to stop…  _ and think _ .

“The thing is,” you started, letting your thoughts consume you in this one moment that you wanted to ask Tom something that always rattled in your brain – the unconscious part of it. “I know this is ironic of me, being a Humanities Major,” you exclaimed, suddenly pausing. “ _At least now_ _I know I am_ ,” you roll your eyes, trying to make sense of the fact that you were once not in your Department, causing the Professor to endearingly raise his eyebrows in question.

“Okay,” you exclaim, putting your hands down, trying to make a point. “But what is it ?”  You bite your lip, trying to find footing in your thoughts. “What was it that convinced you to pursue Drama?”

It was Tom’s turn to blink at you.

Scared that you had not made your point, you flex your fingers and continued once more. “I mean, I know it’s your passion .” You gestured towards him. “But yet you choose to teach about it and you did claim that  _ the classroom is your life _ …”

Tom opened his mouth to somewhat cut you when you suddenly said, “Don’t deny that part , Thomas. You clearly stated that in one of those early lectures of yours that I attended when I was  an undergrad .”

The Professor shut his mouth closed and brought his hands down, somewhat swiveling his head to say no – only to end up nodding.

Proving your point with a smug little grin, you gesture an open hand towards him again and ask, “But why return to drama? I mean –  _ what tempts you to go back on stage? _ ”

The man remained quiet as it was his turn to lean on a lamppost.

With his sudden silence, his pursed hips and his furrowed brow; you suddenly felt that maybe your wording was wrong or your questioning was too prying that you may have ended up offending your host.

But then he suddenly spoke up and your head started to spin again.

 

“I…” he started. “I felt like playing a different instrument.”

 

_ What? _

 

You wonder if he mistook your question as if he was applying for the orchestra. “ _ I’m sorry? _ ” you burst.

He looked up at you, those eyes filled with a spark you were not and yet somewhat familiar with as he clenched his hands together, seemingly running around in his head trying to find ways to explain what he wanted to say.

“Listen ,” he started, coming close to your person with your questioning eyes and crossed arms. “In this life of ours, we are usually designated to play one instrument .”  He gestured about. “Maybe I was born to just play the piano.” He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe that and the flute.” He shrugs. “Who knows?”

He turns to grin at you. “Maybe you’re just destined to play the violin.” You found yourself nodding, pushing him to continue. “In this life of ours, we are assigned to play specific roles in the grand orchestra of life.”

Then, you watch him straighten up, and the fire in him begins to  _ glow _ .

“In theatre,” he exclaimed with gusto. “ _ You _ are the  _ orchestra _ .”

You think you start to understand.

“Every single person you could ever be ,” he licked his lips before continuing, his hands now gaily flailing as he enumerated all the reasons why the stage happened to be his universe. “Lawyers, defendants, victims, prosecutors, antagonists, protagonists …”

He subtly pointed to a man walking towards an expensive car. “One day you’re a well-off businessman ,”  he gestures at a suspicious dark alley you both just passed. “Or maybe you’d be a peasant the next.”

His blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the dark. “You could be a king, a knight, a squire… or even a queen.” Next thing you know, his hands were on your shoulders and you had to look into those deep blues without thinking about the context you’ve forever been avoiding – since he’s talking about something else  _ other than that _ . “Every untouched key on the piano, every string not strummed… all of them _ under your fingers _ .”

He seemed to be catching his breath as he waited for an expression to break on your face as you realize that you were starting to understand the true passions of this man.

 

“Do you get me?”

 

You found yourself looking in the distance first, as your whirling thoughts and those wondrous imageries painted by his words began to settle in your head. Slowly, with awe and amazement showing in your eyes, you began to nod as you bravely looked up to smile at him, acknowledging the depth and meaning of the universe he just described for you.

The thick air of discovery and realization was cut by one gleeful chuckle that came from the professor himself, as you both assumed your initial positions.

One was a bashful friend who was in awe that someone he  _ seemingly _ cared about so much is starting to see the world through his eyes .

And then there’s you, the navigator who finally reached land , understanding all those newly discovered layers of this complex character you thought was nothing but a worldly man’s hollow shell.

“Oh pumpkin,” he laughed gaily as you both rise from your positions and began walking down the path again, side by side. “I always knew we were kindred spirits! We always had the same wavelength . ” He chuckled to himself again as you had to look away, before  _ you gave yourself away with that smile _ .

You heard him sigh. “Why oh why didn’t I meet you earlier?” He mused. “Like  when  I met Hayley and Chris in University?”

You found yourself stopping on your tracks as the smile on your face seemed to melt.

 

_ Could he have forgotten? _

 

He eventually noticed that you have stopped walking, as he turned around for you to see the glee on his face slowly turn into apprehension. He was about to open his mouth to ask if something was wrong, when you said it first .

“We already  _ met earlier _ ,” you said slowly. “Remember?”

Tom looked at you cluelessly for a second, before a small knowing smile appeared on his lips as he nodded, with his gaze falling downwards. He stood there silent for a while, his expressions mixed between nostalgia and  perhaps a little bitterness? You dared to peer closer past the night shadows that touched his face, but you can barely make anything except the way his eyes seemed blank and yet full of memories all at the same time.

“I,” he began as he scratched the back of his head, those long fingers grazing his curls. “I just wish I met you earlier than that .”

He pulled his coat tightly together as you both continued walking. “Much earlier than,” he muttered as gusts of steam seemingly escaped his thin lips. “That time when I met you…” You felt those blue eyes shifting over to gaze at you, before returning to the road again. “And then you disappeared.”

Your steps began to dwindle as the weather started feeling chillier than ever. Either that or you felt as if your chest started to tighten up again, like the first time you…

“And when you return, _there_ _ was, _ ” he turned to face you, but with the way his eyes gazed downwards, you knew there was more to what he wanted to say. Then the baby blues came to greet you with a sad note. “ _There already_ _ was  someone else . _ ”

 

It felt like a black hole.

For once you felt like being lifted, before you began to fall into that vacuum of empty space and darkness once more…

What more was that sad, blank expression on his face…

That’s when your stomach started to growl.

You didn’t know if it was your biology or your body’s desperate attempt to change the sudden dampening of the mood, but you suddenly found yourself stuttering out –

 

“ _ I _ ,” you gasp. “ _ I want to eat something sweet. _ ”

 

Tom found himself stopping in his tracks, as that sad expression was erased from that handsome face as he found himself bewilderedly grinning at you.

“Seriously , pumpkin?” The nickname was back, so you were sure that there is hope for tension to be lifted. “After everything Chris threw at us?” You were quite sure that you heard a little chuckle despite the cold vacuum the weather was putting on at that moment.

You turned to look down the road and saw a small-scale ice cream stand with a sleepy looking vendor standing by it, still open despite the late hours of the night. He met your gaze and you were sure that he saw it too.

 

“Please?”

 

Five minutes later, you both were holding pistachio cones as you were sure that Tom cannot resist a pair of puppy dog eyes that can rival his own.

“Thanks for the treat,” you found yourself muttering after a few licks.

The man looked at you, his hand in his pocket as the other is holding his own cone as he balanced the case between his long gangly legs, with his golden curly hair rustling in the wind. You were sure that there might have been mists slowly clouding those glasses, but maybe you were imagining it. But you were sure that you weren’t imagining the small smile on his pistachio-stained lips.

“Of course,” there was a tinge of softness in the glee of his voice. “How can I resist?”

You felt the air become more chilly once more, as a gentle silent shiver went up your spine. You didn’t know if it was the smile, the gesture, or the way his eyes still seemed to twinkle in the night sky but you found yourself never mentioning the first time you met to him again and maybe the second “first time” you both met .

For a moment, a hearty silence was shared between two seemingly old friends enjoying a nice cold treat at a supposedly cold night.

“You know,” you find yourself muttering after licking off a smudge of sweet from the side of your lip. “You’d make a good Benedick.”

Tom was lucky that the dimness of the closest lamppost was enough to hide the light tint of rouge on his cheeks. “An honor to hear that from you, pumpkin,” he exclaimed, prolonging his grateful silence until he made a soft  _ crunch _ to crumble his wafer cone.

The chuckle you heard was from your own throat.

“You really need to use the nickname?”

“I can’t help it.”

It was almost ten thirty in the evening and for once you didn’t feel like a student with her deviant professor, nor a poor lodger with nothing to offer with her landlord who have given her the warmest room in this god forsaken country .

And yet, despite everything, you wonder how could he smile so sweet .

 

_ Tink! _

 

That was clearly your text notification interrupting the moment.

Giving him a sheepish grin, you pull your phone out of your pocket as you frowned at the would be killjoy intruder who was currently stamping on your brand of newfound happiness .

 

 

**_Penny_ **

_ You and Mattie really need to talk. He’s looking for you. _

 

 

You were right.

Your life was without conflict for too long.

And if life was a stage, it seems like conflict is about to make a grand entrance left very soon.

And for just one moment of utter bitterness you found yourself clutching your shoulder again, with your now healed bruises suddenly aching for no reason .

Your turbulent thoughts were interrupted by another hearty crunch from your right and you looked up from your bleak little phone to find two big blue eyes eyeing you curiously like a large puppy with his one ear folded on his head.

“What was that?”

It was your turn wrinkling your nose at the Professor as you gave him a smile – a genuine smile of silent gratitude that was subtly thanking him for at least that short few days of silence in your supposedly turbulent life.

“Nothing important.”

 


	21. The Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like a storm out in the sea, it has to meet the land at some point. And as for you, the whole issue with Mattie has to be resolved somehow. Even if it never is a pleasant experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took [Wolfie](http://iamthebadwolf85.tumblr.com) and me quite a while before we can churn this chapter out... but it's just that... in her words -- " _It' just that the content is heavy._ " And she meant that emotionally. Going through this chapter isn't easy for us at all. So do take caution and prepare a chocolate or a hot drink before reading. <3

And so it began.

The rains started again and it was colder and more humid than what it was before. Now that the long break is over, the campus has become busier with the horde of students returning from the holidays. With the excitement and hustle and bustle in the air, with organizations and fraternities planning events and parties, everyone seemed to be up to something for the season. However, you find yourself in the middle of it all, unusually unenthusiastic about anything.

Well you weren’t needed on campus immediately once the holidays were over, but considering you had papers due the next month, you had to turn up to at least one or two classes the week school reopened.

And you had to be there for Penny.

You didn’t expect _it_ to come so early, but when it’s Penny seeking you out, you answer the call. Even if the call was made for someone you’re supposedly hiding from.

To be honest, you haven’t had the _talk_ with Penny yet.

You know?

That _very conversation_ you had with the Professor when he saw you huddling like a sick cat, clad in your blue hoodie, trying to _hide so many bruises_ , internally and emotionally, at the back of the restricted section of the library.

You’re luckier now since compared to your supposedly _previous_ host, your _current_ host had kept you well-fed, warm, and well-recuperated since the last supposed misfortune in your life. Not to mention that he’s showing you sides of him you’ve never seen before and never imagined to be that _pleasant_.

Despite the current outcome of your contract-scholarship-related endeavors, you were not so sure if _the upcoming incident_ _concerning the other one_ would turn out as fine.

These are the thoughts that occupied your brain as you sat on an outdoor campus-run café, filled with undergrads who were meeting with their friends they haven’t seen for a month. As you were surrounded by happy gibbering, excited whispering, and friends greeting friends with warm hugs and shouts of joy… you sat there anxiously waiting for an old colleague – _if she was going to be a friend to you after finding out what happened to you and another mutual buddy_.

You would have said that he was more than a mutual friend, but after everything that happened? You weren’t so sure anymore.

You weren’t so sure how Penny found out, but you knew that for some reason that Matthew might have “ratted” you out. Whether they met as a group or just the two of them you wouldn’t know, but you wouldn’t dare think that maybe Penny is Mattie’s next target. As much as you were convinced that whatever feelings or attractions you had for that boy were dead after what he did to you; you couldn’t help but feel scared for Penny but you knew she wouldn’t be as _hard headed_ or _stupid_ as you could be. What you knew was the two somewhat met up when your clique got together again without you (considering that you’d probably still be recuperating in the Professor’s flat) and that an upset (and enraged, as you would imagined, although Penny did not specify on anything) Matthew wanted Penny to help him get to talk to you.

A futile attempt to be honest, since you didn’t want to face him again, but if your good friend was involved, you were convinced that maybe it’s time to put a stop to your supposed ex-lover’s violent stubbornness.

It’s a shame that the Professor does not know about any of this, or at least the possibility of it – to be honest about it.

He may be on campus at that very moment, but you knew that he was attending a seminar on Classic Literature held specifically for undergrads and he wouldn’t be out till the afternoon. He may have noticed your anxiety during breakfast, but you were rewarded with the best eggs benedict you’ve ever had in your entire life, along with a gentle smile that greeted you while you both were on your way out. He had no idea how much you would have needed that smile to help you get through the day.

If you ever get through the day.

You weren’t even halfway through your mocha (the only thing your stomach could handle) when you heard footsteps making their way towards you. You looked up to find a pair of worried hazel eyes looking at you.

Lips parting to greet her, you were suddenly surprised when she quickly sat down, looked around, before turning to face you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, bits of a concerned smile going on her lips. “I never thought you’d show up.”

You let out a huge sigh as you placed your phone on the table beside your coffee. “When a friend calls you, you turn up,” you say as you have been repeatedly telling yourself.

You paused for a moment as you noticed a seemingly flustered look appear on Penelope’s face. “And I swear,” you mutter underneath your voice, wondering why on earth was your good friend dragged into this mess. You had wished you fixed this sooner. “It’s about time I talked to him about _things_.”

Penny’s shoulders sank. “Is it really that bad?”

You smothered your face with your palm. “It’s…” your eyes flitted away, far away, as you watched a newly reconciled undergrad couple hugging on the campus park a block away from the café. “Complicated.”

The girl across you bit your lip. You barely saw how she turned to look at the watch on her wrist as she turned her hand about cautiously underneath the table. “You can tell me,” Penny said reassuringly. “I hope we have the time.”

You let out a big sigh.

You had started to talk when suddenly, the expression of the girl in front of you changed. Following the direction to which Penny’s eyes were gawking at, you felt your hairs stand on an end as you realize that maybe you went to battle without even preparing your armor.

Behind you stood someone you didn’t expect to show up at all.

And your blood suddenly run cold since you weren’t prepared for _this_ at all.

“ _Hello, poppet._ ”

 

 

***

 

 

The Old Theatre Library was the place where it all started, at least for you and Mattie.

It was where you both had your first kiss… if you wouldn’t mind rewinding past a few chapters or so. But as of this moment, you weren’t reminiscing your humble beginnings (without even knowing how _sour_ and _awful_ everything would turn out to be later on), as you were inside one of those resource rooms sitting in front of a man who has done _horrible things_ in your presence.

Now don’t ask me why you had to end up without any backup or support, all alone with a man who technically _assaulted you_ in the past, but maybe this wasn’t one of your finest moments as well.

The moment Mattie requested that he speak to you in private, you found yourself helpless and obedient once more, in some sort of attempt to hide fragments of the _truth_ from Penny, considering that the man was surely going to talk about your supposedly _illegitimate_ affair.

You didn’t know why you wanted to hide it; was it because of shame? Guilt? Fear that it may tarnish your reputation and ruin whatever possible positive outcome that your contract with Professor Hiddleston could give once word got out that you had an _affair_ when you’re supposedly betrothed to a faculty in hopes of gaining a scholarship? You just didn’t know and you didn’t want to find out.

But the moment Mattie led you, alone, to one of these empty private resource rooms supposedly for four people you knew you had to keep your eyes wide open for anything.

The din of the silence was suffocating.

Within the white walls of the recreation room, that was designed for group studies, projects, conferences, and the like; none of what it suggested – serenity, productivity, and cooperation could work between you and your supposed “partner”.

It didn’t help that as much as you wanted to appear strong, you wanted to appear as if you were stable even if you were all alone, and that you wouldn’t stand and swallow anything he’d try to question or put you through in this discussion… In reality you felt fear and insecurity towards the man who wouldn’t initially look at you and would incessantly pick on a chip on the table you were both facing and it didn’t comfort you at all when suddenly raised his emerald eyes to glare at you.

You realize that this was how it felt.

To be locked alone in a room with someone who you cannot trust your safety and sanity to.

You have never felt about it for so long, that even a few weeks of freedom made you forget about it, you suddenly felt your shoulder and your bruises aching once more as you turned to face the brown-haired young man who sat across you… scowling.

You used to have this faint intrusive thought that maybe Tom was a deviant, a perception brought about by his demands for the contract and what not. But given the circumstances and what you have went through by choosing a supposedly illegitimate younger lover to make up for the “lack of satisfaction” (which was obviously a _blatant lie_ ) you were receiving from the Contract.

 

Suddenly, the Professor is a saint.

 

What stings at this moment was that the saint didn’t know you needed to be saved.

 

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” Mattie murmured.

Squinting, you managed to somewhat snap back a defiant “I’m sorry?”

The man was wearing a bitter scowl on his face as he angrily scoffed and scratched the back of his head, smoothing a shaking hand down the sleeve of his orange jacket. He turned to glare at you, seemingly puzzled with why you were looking at him as if he was a madman, seemingly expecting you to have a different reaction to what seemed to be the start of his pleading.

“I haven’t heard from you since the incident after _Carmen_ ,” he seemed like a little boy eating his words. “You stayed two days at my house and then you were gone. Not a word. Not even a peep.”

It used to be cute to you, but now it was just really getting on your nerves. As much as you felt annoyed, you knew you couldn’t show your distaste of it.

You didn’t want to make an enemy out of Matthew.

At least, not now.

“Are you avoiding me?” His words snapped you out of your anxious thoughts, as you turned to look at Matthew, with a bit of tenderness appearing on his face.

You purse your lips. You weren’t falling for this rouse anymore. You didn’t want to.

“And why would I do that,” you tried your best to hide the sarcasm in your voice, to no avail. You unconsciously shrugged your shoulders as the pain on your muscles that were supposedly healing by now (thanks to Thomas’s salve) started aching again. “After everything that happened between us.”

The scowl on Mattie’s face grew bigger.

“Didn’t it matter to you?” The pain was seeping through his words now, as his face was etched with supposed pain and confusion, as if he was betrayed. “Did anything between us even matter to you?”

You look at him bewilderedly, realizing that maybe he’s right. His words have no weight on you anymore. You never imagined love (even attraction) to fade away that fast, but when you realize that what you used to believe to be “love” turns out to be a sham, the beauty of it slowly fades away even how much you used to like that person before.

You sit there looking at this broken man whose notion of “love” was having the intention to actually hurt you and then you realize that maybe this wasn’t even “love” in the first place.

“ _The moment you fucked my ass without consent_ ,” you hissed out the sharp words without warning, unaware of the snarl that was forming on your face. “Was the moment when I realized that _nothing between us mattered anymore_.”

Forget fear, forget decency. The reason you were abused in the first place was because you had _let him_. You weren’t going to give him the right to scare you into a corner again. Not anymore.

Matthew snorted, before pinching his nose and straightening his back from his hunched figure when he was still playing the role of a kicked puppy as an attempt to call out to your sympathy.

“You asked for it, _doll_ ,” he spat out the term of endearment as if it was something disgusting. “You said you wanted to be treated like a slut and fucked like one.”

You wrinkled your nose, this time _truly disgusted_. “I didn’t ask to be disrespected,” you hit back, with your arms crossed. “I didn’t ask for these!” You didn’t plan on doing it, but you found yourself unbuttoning your blouse and yanking it sideways to reveal the hideous blue mark that was splattered like a blot of watercolor against your skin.

As much as most people would be taken aback by the blatant proof of violence that was etched on your body, you were surprised that at the sight of it _Matthew just licked his lips_.

“Of course you did, _poppet_ ,” he answered as-a-matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving your bruise as if he was _proud of doing it._ “It’s just a little payment for our agreeme–”

You looked at him, shocked. “I didn’t agree to _anything_.”

A little disbelieving laugh escaped his mouth.

It sounded so sarcastic and so… taunting. It was as if he was making fun of everything, of what happened, your disdain for it, and your pain. It was such a shame that you didn’t see Matthew to be like this, especially at the start. He has been so nice, so gentle, and so polite, you wouldn’t imagine him to be as _twisted_ and _wrong_ like this.

“The moment you let me fuck you against the wall was the moment you agreed to it,” he murmured, glaring at you. “You wanted me,” he exclaimed, without any remorse. “You let take you back home. You let me take you against my wall. You let me do whatever I wanted.”

You look away, ignoring that mocking smile on his face. “I shouldn’t have.”

Mattie suddenly slammed his fist against the table, startling you.

“Ungrateful wench,” his words were now hurtful, the complete opposite of what made you want him in the first place. “After everything I have done for you!”

You were about to retort again, as he clearly doesn’t see the point, when he slammed his fist on the table again, shaking it closer to you.

You never imagined him to be this violent.

And yet after everything he has done to you…

You quietly chastise yourself, telling that you should have known better.

“You owe me!!!” he screamed at you, with a finger pointing to himself. “I was your choice! I was your first choice! I deserve something more than being the hidden lover no one ever sees!”

 _So that is what this is all about_.

You closed your eyes in utter annoyance as you palmed your face in utter disbelief. The man stood up and began to pace like a cornered tiger, glaring at you the entire time. A voice inside your head told you that the longer that you stayed in this conversation, the chances of you getting into trouble would be higher. You had to stop this madness. Now.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” you tried to keep your cool, despite the fact that your hand was starting to shake.

“It’s over, Matthew.” You said in a clipped manner.

For a moment, you saw his expression change.

The pleading eyes appeared again as he smothered his face with his hands, seemingly getting a hold of himself after everything he has said. You tried to keep your cool as he stood in front of you now looking like a kicked puppy, so different from the raging, pacing tiger that was threatening to lunge at you earlier.

You had to remind yourself that this boy was a talented actor as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered your name.

You stared at him disbelievingly, wondering what kind of hell you had to pay to end up in this situation. Maybe this was your punishment for whatever shit you did to Tom. After all, you had to _eventually_ admit to yourself that parts of the contract really were unfair to your Professor-Friend… But more of that for later. Right now, you are stuck in the middle of a storm named _Matthew_ , and you really had to find a way to weather yourself out of it or else your ship would end up as sea fodder. And with the way he has emotionally twisted the situation, you just realized that the storm is going to get worse for you if you don’t unfurl your sails.

He tried to reach out and touch you, those hands pleading for you to acknowledge his gentleness.

“Please forgive me…”

Quickly evading the touch of his hand, you moved away, shaking your head. You weren’t sure if disgust showed on your face or not, but you could only tell that whatever your expression was, it caused the man to grit his teeth.

And then he started screaming.

“Bitch!” he cussed at you as he stomped on the floor like a little boy, making his voice reverberate through the closed quarters of the  “Ungrateful little…”

You winced at every insult-laced statement he threw at you.

You didn’t expect it would come to this. Mattie has always been thoughtful, sweet, and endearing. He sure had a lot of energy, but you would never thought him to be so spiteful, so vengeful, so violent.

He was the kind of man your mother warned you about.

What even convinced you to sleep with this man?

But as you were lost in your thoughts, trying to find a way out of the conversation, out of the resource room, as you clutched the edge of your chair waiting for the ticking bomb to explode. You watched the man repeatedly pacing in front of you as if you were his hostage as if his words were even supposed to matter.

And the vitriol spurred him on.

A raspy chuckle escaped his lips in the middle of all his cursing. He glowered at you. “I bet Hiddleston made you do this,” he growled as he stepped towards you, a long finger accusatorily pointed at you. You watched with shock as that once handsome grin turned into a hideous sneer, his words about your dear Professor-Friend turning your eyes red with fury. “You’d whore yourself around for him, just like what you did with me.”

 

_Slap!_

 

You didn’t know what the fuck just happened.

The scene that unfolded in front of you was that of Matt who was suddenly staggering off balance, stepping backwards, as he painfully clutched at his reddening cheek. You turned to look down to find your open hand at the ready, still shaking.

One insult aimed at Tom and you didn’t know what just came over you.

And the words you blurted out?

It would have been priceless if someone else were there to hear it.

“You don’t fucking talk about Tom like that,” you spat out with anger, your finger shaking as you shook it in his face. “ _Ever._ ”

You’ve had enough.

Sure, Matthew would disgrace you, would do things without your consent, even physically hurting you. But to insult the man who has been your friend for a very long time, to insult the man who gave you a roof over your head, important necessities, food and support, to insult the man who willingly helped you with your education (albeit for a few _settlements_ )…

Mattie went too far enough.

And he begins to realize that you mean business as he clutched his cheek and stared at you wide-eyed, those green eyes filled with horror.

But then something in him changed once more.

His green eyes grew dark and a frown began to engulf his face. There was a small voice inside of you that told you that maybe you went too far and he deserved it. However, you weren’t prepared when he suddenly straightened up and moved towards you.

Next thing you knew, your scalp was on fire.

 

 

***

 

The silence was too much to bear.

Penny sat on one of the long tables positioned on the second floor of the Old Theatre Library. It was situated near the resource rooms where Mattie took you for a _little talk_ , or whatever that meant, somewhat shunning and putting a baffled Penelope aside.

Despite knowing that Matt was somewhat upset with you, she doesn’t know the reason of the falling out between her two friends. Inside her troubled mind, she was debating whether she did the right thing of bringing you two together to talk, or it was a bad idea leaving considering Mattie’s rage and the hidden temper that he somewhat unleashed at Penny upon finding out that you have contacted her before but did not mention him at all.

However, despite her calm appearance as she tried to read a book filled with commentaries and reviews about Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” back in 1909; she couldn’t help but wonder if she shouldn’t have left you and Mattie alone.

But just like what you knew before, you, her, and Mattie (along with a small number of recurring classmates) have been good friends ever since your group met during orientation for Post-Grads, and Penny was sure that Matthew was a sweet natured young man.

_Slam!_

A commotion suddenly exploded down the corridor.

Students’ heads swiveled wildly, alarmed by the loud sound.  As they looked up from their readings, book hunting lists, and quiet study groups as bodies rose from those lines of long tables, looking for the source of the commotion.

Penny had to quickly jump up on her feet, letting the book she was reading to topple down the floor as she realized that the sound that she heard came from the direction of the resource rooms.

With students suddenly peeking out of the other occupied resource rooms and others rising from the carpeted floor to take a look at the loud _bang_ ; Penny had to push her way through this growing number of students that were starting to clog the hallway to the private study rooms, as she started to _genuinely_ worry about you and Mattie.

However, the scene that greeted her made her face turn paper-white.

Undergrads and grad students alike are frozen on the spot, watching a man looking equally dangerous as someone holding a gun, with his grip wounded around another woman’s hair. He was pulling her by the scalp, as he spat profanities and obscenities at the poor lass who was bent over, seemingly defenseless as she tried to free her hair from his claws.

And that was when Penelope realized that the woman being assaulted, with her back slammed against one of the surfaces of the bookshelves – was _you_.

“ _Matthew!”_

Suddenly, someone was untangling your hair from his grip, as you were painfully released with your scalp still aching. You turned to look as your female rescuer leaned you against a bookshelf surface, looking at the man in complete disbelief.

Penny was completely out of breath as she tried to ignore the other people who were surrounding the three of you, as they started to whisper to each other. You on the other hand, were busy hiding your face underneath your hair, not because you wanted to conceal your identity, but the fact was you’re busy trying to alleviate the pain on your scalp.

For a moment, Mattie seemed to catch his breath.

But all of a sudden, he tried to lunge at you again, this time only to be blocked by Penny who stood in front of you, as he pushed him away.

“ _Stop it!_ ” Her voice was powerful that it reverberated in the hall, yet you knew that she was holding it all in.

Just like every confrontation, despite the initial warning that Matt was already cross and upset, Penny was expecting that this one will be resolved in a civil manner. But after witnessing the outburst of Mattie’s temper and you looking helpless as you slowly slid on the floor massaging your head; the truth suddenly dawned on Penny that this altercation was graver than she thought.

“What the fuck happened to you?!” Her voice was strained, almost hushed, as she looked at the man who was flexing his hands, glaring at you. “What the _hell happened to you, Matthew_?! My god!”

Baring his teeth, you thought the man would grunt and lunge after her too.

To your surprise, he raised one trembling hand and wiped his lip. The expression that emerged on his face would have terrified you if you were looking, since it definitely horrified Penelope.

“You’re siding with her too, huh,” the man said, sneering. “That two timing whore…”

You couldn’t see it, but your friend was gritting her teeth, her brow wrinkling in absolute confusion.

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you,” the sound of disappointment and disbelief was in Penny’s voice. “But I won’t let you treat her like this.”

 Everyone watched as the man snorted at her and then turned to glare at you.

“You think,” he seemed to spit at you as the rest of the floor remained silent, with the tittering amongst the spectators dying down. “That Professor of yours is perfect? You think he’s everything you’ve ever wanted?”

The man gestured widely, almost as if he was drunk – although you wouldn’t be surprised if he was. But after seeing how far his misdemeanor and penchant for violence would go, you realized that you didn’t know Matthew at all. Suddenly, that soft-spoken man who smiled a lot and laughed in between breaks was gone. This was what he truly was underneath that façade: a violent storm that would have shred you into pieces.

“Well guess what, sister –” he contorted his supposedly handsome face as he sneered at you. He strode closer to you as he managed to easily shove the shaking Penny aside.

“He’s using you,” he whispered as he leaned down to gloat at your exhausted face, as you emerged from the painful reprieve of trying to numb down the pain on your scalp. You raise your head and part your tousled hair aside, as you peered into his beady green eyes.

“Just like how you’re using him.”

You should be terrified, after what this man did to you.

Just like that, you forgot how he was your friend, how the two of you used to be so close, and how you used to hold deep-seated feelings for him.

And yet, you could not understand where you found the courage to grin weakly at his face, despite looking like a shamed underdog in front of him in front of everyone.

“You’ll never amount to him,” you felt yourself say out loud, despite the weakness in the tone of your voice. “You will never be _enough_.”

Suddenly, you felt your left cheek burn with pain.

Your hand quickly shot up your face as you found your head facing another direction, the image of Matthew gritting his teeth stuck in your brain as he lashed out at you in anger. Gasps emanated from among the crowds of students, as a few retaliating words of “Stop!” and “Damn man, you’ve gone too far” could be heard among a small cluster of boys who were five to six years younger than him, who suddenly ran up to the scene to tear himself from you and your female friend.

Penelope on the other hand has seen too much.

“ENOUGH!” Penny screamed as she pushed Mattie away, tears stinging her eyes as she strained to keep them from falling.

You didn’t even see the shock, followed by disgust and pure hatred on the man’s face, as Penny’s worried face blocked your view. Your female friend started fussing about you, telling you that you’ll be fine, this would be reported to a Disciplinary Team, and you’re both going straight to the Student Council.

However, her words started to blur as you stared into space, watching as the other man glaring at you with so much loathing underneath concealed rejection and pain pushed the boys who were holding him back away, shrugging them off with his broad shoulders…

He didn’t even look back as he walked away, unable to see how you clutched at your cheek as Penelope holds you protectively in her arms, as you wonder how you managed to escape all of that _technically unscathed_.

After all, what is a little hair pulling and a slap to the face compared to what he did before?

You were just only glad it was over.

You prayed that it was over.

 

 

***

_Hey Professor Shakespeare, I hope you don’t mind but I’m bunking over with a friend tonight. I promise to be back the next morning with donuts. I’m sorry for informing you so late. - XX_

 

The disappointment was vivid on your face, as clear and distinct as the bruise on your left cheek.

You couldn’t help but smirk whenever you look at it with your pocket mirror.

 

“I can’t go home like this,” you whine, the heartbreak evident in your expression as you sat with your savior in a coffee shop far from the University and your Professor-Friend’s flat. You try not to rub your cheek despite the pain nagging at you, as you hoped that it would go away so you’d be able to go home to Tom’s apartment without garnering too much attention to yourself.

Penny on the other hand, had opposing views. “He’s a tenured Professor in the goddamn school,” she forcefully whispered, looking around. “It would help if you inform him about this.”

You close the pocket mirror as you looked back at your friend with a grave expression.

As much as your old friend would definitely go out of his way to fight your battles for you (as he actually did before, though you never noticed), you could slowly make out the disappointment followed by fury forming on Tom’s angled face if he ever found out that you met up with Mattie again and well, the entire event didn’t go so well.

You swore that you would never burden Tom with that knowledge ever again as long as the contract is in place. No, for as long as your _friendship_ lasts. You didn’t have the heart to bother him with something you should have fixed long ago, if you weren’t so fickle-minded and hell-bent on running away from your feelings.

You look out of the café window and sigh.

“I can’t get him involved anymore,” you spoke as if you were in a trance. You barely noticed how Penny’s expression contorted in confusion, not knowing the big picture. “He’s already done too much for me.”

Solemnly, you placed the pocket mirror on the table. Penny turned to see the serious expression on your face, a sign that you have strengthened your resolve.

“I started this mess,” you spoke bravely, your eyes dry this time as you’ve cried too much about this issue. “I’ll end it.”

Penny across you could only sigh as she tried to reach out and express her empathy, as she wondered how she could have really helped in the first place. But as she was about to touch your hand, you suddenly snatched it from the table and covered your face, ignoring the way your bruise stung as you did it.

“Oh my God!” You exclaimed in anguish. “What have I done?! This is all my fault!”

The girl across you began to panic herself. “No!” Penny exclaimed, waving her hands. “Don’t say that! This is my fault!”

Confused, you raise your head from your hands as you turned to look at her. She fiddled with her hands as she spoke, “If I only knew it would end up like this... maybe Mattie wouldn’t have had the chance to do that to you.”

You bite your lip, feeling guilty as you looked away. This was still your fault. Your cowardice, your refusal to face your fears and fix whatever mess you’ve made. Sometimes you wonder, how things could have been if you had not reciprocated Matthew’s advances. But then again, someone once said that you can’t legislate for what your heart chooses…

“You still can’t talk about what happened between you two, huh?” Penny stated questioningly.

A pair of worried eyes met hers and you found yourself shaking your head.

The woman nodded and placed a hand on the table. “Alright then,” she said respectfully, nodding. “Let me make this up to you. You can stay over my place for tonight. After all, you’ve already told Hiddleston that –”

 _The Professor_ , you suddenly remembered.

Your brow furrowed in apprehension once more. You found yourself looking at your phone in a flash, suddenly wondering whether the text you sent was something caused by your impulsivity when –

 

 

**_Professor H_ **

_Oh, alrighty pumpkin. I understand. Don’t forget to have dinner though! If anything comes up, just let me know, okay?_

 

 

You palm your face.

As much as you don’t want to involve Tom further in this fracas that originated because of your own ego of not wanting to give in to your _true_ emotions for _someone else_ , you couldn’t help but think of the man who was worried about where you were going to eat and sleep for that night.

“I think I’ll have to back out on that, Penny,” you exclaim as you pocket your phone, wanting to bang your head on the table to further add bruises on your face. “I know I’ve sent Hiddles the text, but I remember him preparing a dinner meal for tonight and –”

To your surprise, Penny whistled, completely changing the mood.

“Whoa girl,” she said, craning her neck in response. “That boy sure has got it bad for you.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, accenting the huge blemish on your cheek. Not to mention that doing the facial expression actually hurt. Most of all, you tried to ignore her comment.

“Whatever,” you spat, waving a hand at her. “I say again, I can’t turn up at his flat like this. What should I do?”

The girl scrunched her lip in thought, when suddenly, her face brightens up as if a lightbulb just popped on top of her head. Next thing you know, she’s rummaging in the small black purse that she’s got with her.

“I know just the thing,” she mutters as she pulls out a small black tube.

“What’s that?” You say in disbelief.

A small inscription on the side of the tube read _MAC Concealer_.

 

 

 

***

 

 

“Pumpkin?!!”

The floofy-haired man opened his door to find you standing in front of his doorstep with half of your head hidden under your hoodie. You turned to smile up at him, this time bravely pulling down your hood, revealing your face to your unsuspecting “roommate”.

Tom found himself tilting his head as he looked at you.

Luckily, Penny managed to cover up the rest of your bruise with the concealer, making it seem as if you didn’t get into a fight earlier that day. Albeit that particular side of your face looks a bit swollen… it didn’t seem as if the Professor noticed it one bit.

“I,” he swung the door open, his posture inviting you inside. “I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.”

You wrinkled your nose and walked past him, slipping your hands inside your pockets. “I’m sorry for the sudden change of plans,” you utter, trying to avoid his gaze. “Turns out that my friend had an emergency thing to attend to and I couldn’t sleep over in her house as spontaneously planned.”

The blond man let the door swing free for a while, before concealing a small smile, as he closed the door behind him. He turned to look at you, mimicking your form as he slipped those big hands in the pockets of his slacks as well.

“I’m –” He started, making a funny little face. “I thought you wouldn’t be home so I didn’t push through with the dinner.”

You felt something bitter in you swell and you unconsciously cursed at that theatre arts misogynist who put you in this situation after that confrontation earlier in the library. Suddenly, all of the Professor’s little efforts became so precious to you, that you would try your best to go out of your way just not to upset him. And just the image of him picking up the pieces and wrapping away the ratatouille he promised just breaks your heart…

You clicked your tongue. “I really regret not being here for dinner.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “You haven’t had dinner yet?”

You hate yourself even more. “I already did,” you pouted regretfully, although you didn’t consider a piece of scone as dinner.

“Alrighty then,” the man still remained chipper despite what you feared in your head that he was disappointed with all of this. Little did you know that he’s just glad you came back to his flat. “We can always save it for another date.”

You gritted your teeth. “I promise!” You exclaimed. “We can have it tomorrow?”

The way his face just brightened up gave you so much comfort after such a shitty day. “That’s great!” He said cheerfully, putting his hands together with a small clap as he moved towards you. “I’m just glad that you’re…”

He took another step closer and you found yourself rigidly moving away and ducking your head, scared that he might notice the swelling on your left cheek that is currently piled on with makeup.

“Wh—” Tom looked confused. “What’s wrong?”

Just the sound of his voice seemingly cracking was enough to sink your spirits again. You were acting like this during the start of the contract, and you’ve been acting like this ever since he showed interest in you post his breakup. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this to him again, not anymore.

You just didn’t want him to find out about the truth about what happened that day, since you were quite sure that he’d be cross again – and of course he wouldn’t be cross with you, but he might go off stalking after that psycho misogynist. And what horrified you was what Matthew could do to your Professor-Friend, considering that Tom is somewhat the root of all his anger towards you, and he’s become even more violent.

You couldn’t help but keep Tom out of this, even if you swore you didn’t want to push him away anymore.

 _Maybe one last time_ , you thought sadly as you turned up to show a cheeky fake grin at him to try to change the mood.

“It’s nothing,” you wave away the anxiety in the air as you realize that you’re close to the guest room door, the quickest path to escape. “It’s just that, I’m coming down with something.” You ignored the way he raised that cheeky eyebrow of his, seemingly knowing that you’re up to something. “I just don’t want you to catch it.”

The man unclasped his hands and suddenly his demeanor changed. There was something dark and hot that appeared in those blue eyes, and he licked his lips. You were also wondering what came over him as he strode closer to you, those eyes becoming half lidded.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered his eyes now grazing towards your supposedly hidden affected cheek as he suddenly paused in his steps, and was about to open his mind.

“I do!” You quickly intervened as you stepped backwards with your hands on the guest room door. “I’m – I worry about you. Haven’t you got a lecture tomorrow?”

The man stopped in his tracks and looked up. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You couldn’t hide your sigh of relief. But then, you didn’t want to leave him hanging either, especially when he flashed you that sad smile. It was all you’ve been seeing ever since you had the brilliant idea to drag him into a supposedly “pretend” agreement wherein you can’t even completely give him the intimacy he’s asking for.

“I’m –” You started, looking down for a while before turning up to return a smile, the sweetest and most sincere you can muster. Forget about what was in your head, this was the least you could give him. “I’m going to be fine. You need not worry about me. I just… I just want to rest tonight. I feel under the weather.”

Tom nodded silently as he brought his big hands together again. “I understand,” he said softly, his eyes still probing your weary eyes and your tired face. “Please, don’t let me keep you.”

You sigh and smile back up at him, half relieved that things were going your way.

“Goodnight,” you say gently, leaving him a small grin before disappearing behind your door.

“Sweet dreams,” he replied softly, his eyes fixed on you before you completely disappeared out of his sight.

Once the door was closed, you let out a huge sigh as you pressed your head against the surface. Your cheek was still aching, your body still sore, and you weren’t sure if a nice hot shower could at least rescue those popped blood vessels on top of your head after your hair had quite an awful tug from your squabble with your ex-secret-lover. But as you open your eyes, you couldn’t help but think of the man outside your door who deserved more than this – deserved better than this, after everything he had done for you.

 _I’m sorry for hiding and lying to you, Tom_ , was all you can whisper in your head. _I don’t want you to go out and fight my own battles for me. I… I already asked too much of you by just being here. I promise I’ll deal with this myself._

Little did you know that the man outside was twiddling with his fingers, trying to figure out your cryptic actions, when all of a sudden his thoughts were interrupted by a single notification from his mobile phone.

 

**_Nina Dermott_ ** _ <ncdermott@library.uea.com.eu>_

_to **T.Hiddleston** <twhiddleston@chmu.uea.com.eu>_

_Hello Professor Hiddleston!_

_I'm really sorry to e-mail you this late, but something has come up lately. I am quite sure that this issue isn't completely under your jurisdiction (and we have already informed your department and those involved), but we believe that you need to see the video attached..._

The Professor’s eyes furrowed as he read through the rest of the email.

The video in question was over 30 minutes or more.

And he had all night.

 

***

 

It didn’t seem to be as such, but the fact was Mattie actually left the confrontation with his tail tucked between his legs.

His ego has been hurt so badly that so many dastardly and cruel things were creeping up in his head, as he tried to justify why he had to be that violent to you, and eventually to Penelope. But considering the fact that you technically had backup and a whole ton of witnesses, not to mention that you were all in the school premises; Matthew had to swallow his ego and continue with his mundane life.

But the confrontation day had to pass first.

Matthew found himself stalking back to campus the next day, but of course this wasn’t to possibly drag you into another childish yet violent dispute. In fact, he was not expecting you to turn up on campus at all. At this point, after running away from him and his own offer of a settlement for what he perceived to be a “relationship”; he considered you as a weak-gutted coward.

“ _She got herself into this mess,_ ” he muttered in his brain as he marched up the steps of the Humanities Department Building. “ _If she hadn’t been such an indecisive slut then none of this would have happened!_ ”

He went up the grand staircase as if he was stalking towards a murder scene, ignoring those worried and baffled looks as he passed by some students. As much as he wanted to stay at home and continue to participate in heated discussions online with your other friends (aside from Penny) who wasn’t present in the Library yesterday; he had to turn up for a scheduled advisement meeting with Professor Schumer. He happened to be his pre-thesis adviser who also was the head of the Theatre Department where he was majoring in.

The thing is with Mattie, even if you are both considered in the same year, he happened to have started a year ahead of you, having to fall back on a few units after he took an underload during the semester before you started.

Now when discussing pre-thesis, it would have been considered something like “Purgatory” for Grad Students like you. It’s not exactly the end of the world as if it was your actual Thesis despite it being the preparation for it, and yet it’s still going to unscrew the top of your head with the demands and standards your adviser will put on you.

On top of the petty squabbles and unhealthy obsessions he had to deal with, Matthew is also busy trying to act the part of the diligent student in hopes of impress his sister and his parents by moving forward with his Masterals program. He was hoping that Professor Schumer (despite having an angry dispute with his secretary over the phone as he bargained for a meeting schedule) would approve of his chosen topics.

The moment he got to Professor Schumer’s office, the man had to shake all his bad mood off, reminding himself that he isn’t going to meet that bitch today. He also reminds himself to put on a charming smile for his adviser, if he had any hope of achieving his goals such as graduating on time.

Brushing you out of his mind, he shrugged twice like a trained thespian conditioning himself before a big act, before knocking the door to the Theatre Arts Chairman’s office.

To his surprise, he heard murmurings within the room coming to a halt, before hearing Dr. Schumer’s voice calling out to whoever was beyond the door. “A moment,” an elderly man’s voice echoed from within the room.

Raising an eyebrow, Matthew withdrew his hand from the knob and waited.

“Come in.”

Entering the study, the young-looking graduate program student was about to start discussing the reason why he was there, when he realized that the sofa chairs positioned in front of the Chairman’s table that was supposed to be for consulting students were currently occupied.

“Ah yes, Mr. Greene,” the fifty-something-year-old veteran-lecturer in the college and distinguished author of a dozen books on history and the classics addressed the young man as he entered the room looking a bit baffled. “The man of the hour.”

Matthew blinked. He wondered if he made that much ruckus with Schumer’s secretary that the old geezer would scold him again about his over enthusiasm.

When he suddenly got close enough to realize that the tall, almost balding, imposing figure sitting to Schumer’s left happened to be the Foreign Languages Chairman and College’s Dean, Dr. Robert Rockfort. He looked a bit surprised to see the student enter the room (despite being addressed to) and yet he was wearing a curt, almost formal smile that was seemingly forced on his lips.

The young man was about to greet the Dean, when he felt like something _or someone_ was glaring at him.

He turned to the other chair to find a stern looking man who was probably a few years older than him, eyeing him sternly like a hawk, his already thin lips pursed to look like a straight line. His curly golden hair was tousled, not smothered in product like it always was, and there seemed to be dark circles underneath his eyes if you paid close attention to him.

Gritting his teeth, Matthew ignored that emanating silent fury from the corner where Professor Hiddleston was sitting in as he turned to speak to his adviser.

“Dr. Schumer, I wish to speak to you about my paper.”

“Ah yes, about that.” The elderly professor quickly pointed out as he placed down a folder that has been handed over by his secretary a day ago, when Matthew grudgingly left it on her desk after finding out that his requests for a meeting was not honored at all since Dr. Schumer was in a conference. “I’m afraid we’re not here to discuss your topics, Mr. Greene.”

The younger man’s eyes twitched.

“ _What?_ ”

Pushing up his glasses as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, Dr. Schumer glanced wearily at the two Professors sitting in front of him before moving to look at his disgruntled student. “Something recently came up,” the instructor spoke softly, trying to avoid the calculating looks given to him by one of his colleagues sitting in front of him. “I have been informed by the Student Council that a harassment case was filed against one of the students in the Studio Arts Department.”

The young man’s lips were a thin line now, as a dark cloud seemed to form over his head.

There seemed to be a tinge of panic forming in his eyes, but upon meeting the glance of one of the professors sitting in the seat he was supposed to be occupying if _everything went smoothly_ , Matthew could only feel the fury and disgust within him growing.

“The whole College Department is a buzz about this whole thing,” the Dean sitting across Dr. Schumer said exhaustedly, running a hand through his greying hair. “And I’ve been getting calls all day from the Disciplinary Board and the Student Council, asking me what action we’re supposed to make about this incident.”

Dr. Rockfort however turned to look at the Graduate Student and said, “However, we cannot make any quick amends until we manage to clear out and investigate the situation and that includes talking to both parties involved.”

The twenty-something Theatre Arts major stood silent as his arm initially outstretched, holding a folder of dissertations and researches dropped limply to his side, as a grave expression formed on his angled face.

His glares however, were greeted by a similar frown by the slightly-younger Professor sitting beside Dr. Rockfort, those blue eyes threatening to bore into his skull with that hidden fury hidden beneath his irises.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Dr. Rockfort,” a quiet, foreboding tone emerged from the young man as he addressed the highest official in his College.

Exchanging calculating glances with the tenured Drama Arts and Classics Professor sitting next to the Dean, Dr. Schumer took a deep breath and threaded his fingers together, putting them flat on his neatly arranged desk.

“Yesterday,” he started. “An altercation between two graduate program candidates was witnessed by staff and other students in the Humanities Library.”

Matthew felt his eyes blur as his head slowly heated up. Unbeknownst to the three men present in the room, he began to grip his folder hard to a point that the edges where he clutched it started to have distinct wrinkled marks.

“There is an investigation going on, and as much as the Student Council and the Disciplinary Board would like to single out and interrogate the people involved in this incident, the Dean,” he nodded in Dr. Rockfort’s direction. “Isn’t willing to subject his students to such accusations without having the matter settled personally first. After all, there hasn’t been a case formally issued by the supposed direct complainant yet.”

A smug expression was starting to form on the face of the student standing in the middle of the room. “Why are we talking about this, Professor?” Matthew said as-a-matter-of-factly, haughtiness dripping from his voice.

Luckily, he didn’t recognize how Professor Hiddleston managed to ball his hands into fists, considering that they were pinned down on the material of the couch he was sitting on.

“Because clearly, Mr. Greene,” Dr. Schumer spoke in a very calm manner. “You have been identified as part of this dispute.”

Matt opened his mouth, looking very harassed and offended. “Come on, Professor,” he said disbelievingly, ignoring the panic rising within him, the goosebumps forming up his spine realizing he _must have been caught_. “You can’t accuse me of something I didn’t…” He turned to glare at the three Professors sitting in front of him. “You don’t have proof!”

“There is CCTV footage,” Tom muttered through gritted teeth, trying his hard to retain his composure as he wished that looks could actually kill. “The librarians and the student witnesses present were willing to testify.”

The green-eyed boy looked at him in shock, the anger on his face not toning down at all.

Clenching and unclenching his hands, paying no mind to the grave faces of his older professors and the clear distaste and tempered rage that Hiddleston has been displaying, Matthew tried to plead with his adviser.

“You can’t do this to me, Professor,” he reasoned out with a tired-looking Dr. Schumer who leaned back on his office chair, clearly disappointed and taken aback with the situation. “There’s got to be something we can do.”

Schumer sat up and tried to reason with the man who was starting to become temperamental, pacing in his space. “All we need is your cooperation, Matthew,” he exclaimed. “We need you to be compliant to the investigation and to provide us with everything you know.”

For a moment, Mattie seemed to agree as he stopped his pacing like a caged tiger, remorse and fear slowly being reflected in his face as he worriedly ran a shaking hand through his hair. He nodded to whatever was said, as he anxiously seemed to listen to whatever his adviser had to say.

“And of course, as the case is being examined, we need to put your academic activities on hold.”

The calm was gone from his face. “What do you mean?”

Schumer took a deep breath. “I’m afraid we have temporarily suspend you.”

This seemed to have opened up a can of worms from Matthew’s side of the argument as he dropped his jaw and temperamentally swung his arm in the air and dropped it violently to his sides. “Are you telling me that I cannot continue on with my research for my final culminating project?!”

Dr. Schumer clearly saw how Professor Hiddleston rolled his eyes as he leaned back on his chair, trying to dispel the tension in his body.

“I’m afraid so,” the College Chair replied with a hint of remorse.

Matthew seemed to have lost his poise and exploded.

“This isn’t fair!” He shouted, his voice seeming to reverberate violently in Schumer’s modest study. “I have an offer waiting from my sister’s acting troupe at the end of this semester! Professor,” he growled as he approached Schumer’s desk and slammed his hands on it, spilling his papers all over the table. This act managed to surprise the two older men, but only merited a defiant glare from the youngest Classics professor to Matthew’s right. “ _I cannot be delayed this semester_.”

Schumer’s expression transformed from weary to stern, seeing the boy throw a tantrum.

“I’m afraid this is the best I can do for you, Mr. Greene,” he flatly spoke as he leaned on the table, looking the temperamental child in the eye. “Unless you would like to be permanently dismissed from the College.”

Dark clouds formed in those green-eyes filled with rage.

“Or the University even.”

Matthew gritted his teeth and hissed at his Professor. “ _You can’t do this to me **,**_ ” he said forcefully.

A voice suddenly echoed from his right, the deep baritone burning in his ear like an insult as the words the man whispered was slowly cauterized in his brain like a cigarette end burning slowly into delicate skin.

“ _Physical assault is a serious offense, Mr. Greene_ ,” Professor Hiddleston said in a low, foreboding tone as his voice echoed in the closed study. “You know the penalties for this type of transgression.”

The younger man slowly turned his head to look at him in surprise, as if he was offended that someone would dare raise his voice at him. But Matthew’s threatening glare was met with a scowl that was of equal ferocity or even double the intensity, coupled with those ice cold blue eyes that were not very merciful at all.

Seemingly defeated and cornered, the younger man brashly shoved his papers off Schumer’s desk as they landed on a very surprised Rockfort’s feet. But before the Dean could react, the Graduate Student stomped away and left through the door, slamming it behind him.

The three Professors looked at the door in silence, admitting quietly to themselves that it wasn’t really one of their best experiences with one of their students.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that, Tom,” Dr. Schumer reached out and patted his colleague (and student, a long time ago) on the arm. “I really appreciate you informing us and handling the paperwork for the complaint. As you know that the Disciplinary Board would have done it for you.”

He turned to smile gently at the Theatre Arts College Chairperson and saw a worried look on Dr. Rockfort’s face.

The Dean spoke with concern evident in his tone. “It must have been too much for you.”

“It’s alright,” the Professor exclaimed, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to do it… _I had to after what happened to her_.”

His blue eyes glinted with a hidden wrath.

“ _I had to see the look on his face._ ”

 

***

 

Thomas managed to keep his composure during the rest of the meeting with Dr. Schumer and Dr. Rockfort. Compared to the grad student who just stormed out of there minutes earlier, he was completely aware what a bad temper could lead to, and honestly, Matthew’s performance did not perfectly spell “grace under fire”. And to think of it, Tom learned this lesson the hard way a long time ago.

“I really appreciate you coming forward with this information,” Dr. Rockfort approached him before they were about to leave Dr. Schumer’s study. “It must have been hard seeing her being treated like that.”

The man was wearing a brave face as he gave the Dean a smug assuring grin, before nodding. “It’s the right thing to do,” the Professor exclaimed, clutching the door as he stood outside with his supposed supervisor. “No,” Tom corrected himself as he avoided the Dean’s worried glances. “It’s the _best_ thing I can do for her.”

Robert Rockfort patted the tall man on the back as he stood in the almost empty corridor. “I’m sure the Disciplinary Board would have things sorted out and the investigation files completed by the end of the week,” he said, pocketing his hands in his blazer. “We will surely get to the bottom of this, Thomas.”

The younger lecturer nodded as he quietly closed the door to the Theatre Arts’ Chairman’s Office. “Thank you, Dr. Rockfort,” he stated, receiving a fatherly pat on the shoulder and an assuring smile before the Dean walked away.

Tom stood there in the long winding halls of the Humanities Faculty Wing, his tremulous thoughts slowly calming down. After the discussion with the Dean and the Theatre Arts Chairman, he managed to feel relieved after receiving their support upon presenting his case along with the proof provided by the Humanities Library Staff.

He felt himself chuckle quietly as he turned around and marched down the hall towards the grand staircase, slowly beginning to understand why you were acting fickle-minded yesterday, when you turned up in his flat wearing a thick layer of makeup.

What made him wonder was why you had to keep it all from him?

Why would you have to conceal that fact?

What was it that was keeping you from sharing such sensitive issues with him, when he knew he could clearly help?

And he couldn’t help but think that maybe you two were already having progress after that incident in the library almost a month ago…

Why do things have to go back to this?

He then remembered that smile on your face that urged him to stop worrying about your predicament. There was a sort of sweetness to it, as if you were telling him that there was nothing wrong, that there wasn’t any trouble at all.

He was almost convinced that night that maybe he was just imagining things, that you were shying away from him again, that you were hiding secrets, and that you were moving away from his presence again.

And yet he couldn’t help but remember how painful it was to watch the evidence video that was sent to him by one of the librarians.

Trying to brush the disturbing thoughts out of his head, in an attempt to dispel the anger brewing within him, Thomas reminded himself that measures have been taken and that _boy_ will finally gain his comeuppance. A smile began to form on his face with the thought that he will get to go home soon and make dinner for the two of you, as he walked quietly amongst the dwindling number of students that were still present in that afternoon, despite most classes ending early that day.

He was about to make a turn to descend the stairs, when the Professor was suddenly greeted by a sarcastic tone coming from behind one of the pillars that held up the hall.

“Haven’t you got your part cut out perfectly for you,” a sneering voice echoed from the staircase. “ _Professor._ ”

The title was spat out as if it was venom, filled with disgust and revulsion.

Stopping in his tracks, Tom could only close his eyes in what seemed to be complete disenchantment, as he recognized whom the voice belonged to. By the time he turned around, he was wearing a slightly visible, yet toned down scowl on his face.

“Are you done playing Prince Charming?” Matthew scoffed as he approached one of his previous lecturers. How Tom managed to stand his ground and retain his poise suddenly makes him look like a long-suffering saint.  “Is the _whore_ back in her tower?”

He could have clocked the boy straight in the nose, right there on the spot.

After everything he had done.

No, Tom was willing to look the other way when you were having some sort of secret affair with your classmate. After all, who was he in your life anyway? He was a friend, he was your best friend's ex-boyfriend. Sure, you’ve been good friends for years, but at some point he tried to accept that was all he’ll ever be.

After all, the contract was just paper. You could have woken up one morning realizing you do not need funding anymore, and you could have easily classified that agreement as null and void without much retaliation from him. As much as that would somewhat dampen his spirits (even how shady the whole agreement has started), he was willing to honor your wishes if the time ever came that you do not want to push through with it anymore.

He saw your relationship with Mattie as something made out of your own choice and volition… It was something, despite wanting _more_ – it was something he considered sacred since it _was what he believed to be what you really wanted_ … even though sometimes he wished he could have you for himself…

But despite how sacred he wanted to view it – not for Matthew, but for _you_ ; what infuriates the Professor is the fact that the boy had to slander everything you believed in, as well as trample on your feelings, physically and emotionally.

As a friend, Tom just couldn’t put up with that.

And he definitely wasn’t putting up with how your _ex-friend_ managed to strut around in front of him despite reports of physical assault towards _you_ , seemingly mocking and taunting your name as if you were the one who did him wrong.

“Well she really does belong there,” Matthew continued scoffing in a grandiose manner, making gestures as if he was on a stage. “With the chains, the whips, _and the dragon_.”

Tom subtly rolled his eyes and prepared to turn away.

Despite appearances, Tom couldn’t help but feel remorse for the young man, considering how he had a talent and a gift in expression, but it all had to sour because of his rotten treatment of women and that disappointing display of violence.

But he believed it was best if he walked away from this.

He was mature enough not to engage the boy in his violent, slanderous tirades.

“It would be best if you watched your mouth, Matthew,” he said sternly, those blue eyes glazed with disgust and irritation. “You really don’t want that complaint to go beyond ten pages at this point.”

Matthew clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth upon hearing that.

The Professor made sure not to let a small smug grin slip through his lips as he subtly looked the boy up and down, as if weighing him, before he turned to walk away.

But before he could leave, he suddenly felt a violent tug at his arm.

“ _Don’t you dare walk away from me you son of a –_ ”

If Tom turned his face to his left, he would have been greeted by a fist. But thanks to the man’s quick thinking and reflex skills (learned through Rugby Training and Self-Defense workshops as a student decades ago), he managed to dodge the boy’s attempt to jab him in the jaw as he easily caught Matthew’s fist in one hand.

What happened next was so fast that next thing Matthew knew was his body being slammed against a hard concrete wall.

By the time those green eyes stopped blinking, he was face to face with those angry eyes that brimmed with blue fire, threatening to burn him to the ground.

“ _Physical assault against a teacher?_ ” Tom’s voice seemed to have changed. _“Tsk, tsk. Haven’t you had enough?_ ”

Even his gait and his stance have shifted, at least in Mattie’s eyes. A menacing aura was seemingly enveloping the supposedly charming young Professor who was once someone he looked up to before engulfing him in the fires of envy and jealousy.

The boy’s green eyes widened, realizing that he was barking up the wrong tree.

There was something else in the Professor’s expression, and he couldn’t figure out if it was a sneer or a sadistic smile as Matthew felt the man’s clutch around his collar tightening every minute. The moment he saw the other man’s jaw twitch with so much tension, that’s when he realized that Professor Hiddleston really was a force to be reckoned with.

“You may have managed to raise a fist against _her_ , Matthew,” despite the haunting monotone that was coming from the older man’s throat, a sinister expression forming on the Professor’s face was what helped nail the message inside the younger man’s head. “But as long as I’m around, this will be the last time _you_ will ever raise a fist against _anyone_ ever again.”

The boy refused to acknowledge the chill that ran down his spine.

He didn’t know when Hiddleston managed to snatch his meat hooks off his collar, but he was sure that he slid down against the concrete wall when the tall Professor finally managed to do so.

Shaking in what he refused to identify as fear and shock, Mattie looked around seemingly terrified for a second before a furious expression began to form on his face, as he watched the Professor shrug off the tension with his shoulders, and prepared to walk away.

“If there’s one thing I know,” Matthew Greene tried to speak between spurts of his breath, panting after the unexpected brusque actions from the lecturer. “Your Rosencratz Candidate Application is a fraud.”

Tom stopped in his tracks.

He slowly moved his head and the younger man was greeted with a stone cold expression. He didn’t have to say a word, but it clearly spelled out “ _What did you just say?_ ” with one powerful expression that was a testament to his skills.

Matthew tried to remain unfazed as he leaned against the wall, trying to hide the way he was shaking despite the stoic dangerous expression on the other man’s face. “It’s impossible for you to be _together_. _It’s all a lie._ ”

The Professor stood there for a while, seemingly letting the threat sink in.

His blue eyes were just blank now, completely lacking any emotion, as if it was all fazed by anger.

And just when Mattie thought his threat was working, when all of a sudden, half a grin and a mocking sneer appeared on the older man’s handsome face.

“You would be behind bars before you can even prove it,” the Professor spoke as-a-matter-of-factly, a small smug grin forming on the side of his mouth. “Whatever _she_ and I have is completely beyond your comprehension, Matthew.”

Thomas turned around before Matthew could retort, throwing him one last line.

“After all, _what do you really know about **love**?_ ”

As he watched the Professor walk away to descend down the stairs, he couldn’t help but remain frozen against the wall with no one in sight to witness how his attempts of blackmail was just burned down by someone much more clever than he was.

That was when Matthew realized that his initial insecurities and fears ever since he decided to pursue you were real…

He was no match against the Professor.

 

 

***

 

 

You thought that it was so nice of Penny to meet up with you a day after… all of that.

She phoned you early in the morning, just when you thought the Professor had left the flat early for a lecture, hearing his footsteps and the soft click of the front door from the comfort of the guest room gave you room to breathe. Having freshened up, you decide to apply more concealer on the bruise on your cheek as you prepare to go out, having noticed that the dark blue mark underneath the skin was slowly becoming less swollen.

She suggested that you two meet up at _Mariette’s_ – a completely new cupcake café in a secluded urbanized part of town. Unknown to the public since it recently opened, your fellow friends and classmates were not aware of it either since its small-budget promotions with the samplings and giveaways happened during a time when everyone was cramming for their post-holiday exams. Penny believed that it was the safest place to meet away from the campus (that was supposedly triggering for you at the moment), and you found her to be so considerate about it.

“Oh thank God you turned up,” she said, clearly still worried as you shuffled towards the outdoor seating that looked like a very nice garden patio, approaching your friend who was still shaken by yesterday’s events.

You just were not aware how Penny was unable to sleep the night before, somewhat blaming herself for bringing you and Matthew together when she did not know how the man would have been vicious to you. Little did she know that you were thankful that the entire event happened, or else you would have never recovered your strength and your dignity after choosing to hide behind the man’s abuse.

“How are you doing?” She mumbled underneath her breath, her hand gently shooting out to touch your chin as she tried to subtly observe the part of your cheek that was painstakingly painted with flesh-colored makeup. “Does it still hurt?”

You nonchalantly rub the surface area near the aforementioned bruise. “I think it’s better today,” you mutter, sleepy eyes observing the green surroundings of Mariette’s.

“That’s good,” Penny said with a sigh of relief as she started to pour some tea for you. “That’s _very_ good…”

The aroma of the black tea leaves sifted through the air, suddenly calming you. It was such a refreshing feeling, as if you have discovered that smell for the first time. It’s not that you weren’t a tea drinker (and in fact you were one), it’s just… the smell echoed so much of home and somewhere so comforting, that you couldn’t help but feel all warm and giddy inside as you watched your friend preparing two cups for you.

“One cube or two?”

You eyed the menu as you could hear the faint crack of lightning a mile away. “Just one,” you answer back as you looked at the dozen entrées presented.

You swore you saw a shadow of a smile on your friend’s face as she covered the sugar container with its porcelain lid. “Honey or milk?” she asked as she prepared to pick up two small white jugs sitting in front of your cups.

A smile crept up on your face. For a moment, you were reminded of the time when everything was fine, you had a steady job and a supposedly steady boyfriend, and your best friend still had the time to spend with you as she whipped up one of those honey-laced tea concoctions during one of those quiet Saturday afternoons…

“Are you alright?” You heard Penny say… followed by the sudden loud crack of thunder.

You felt something wet fall on your nose.

Opening your eyes, you suddenly find her putting down the two tiny porcelain jugs as she quickly looked up to find rain falling in slow steady drops on top of your heads. With the atmosphere suddenly dampening with humidity, you ignore the aproned waiters moving quick to unfurl the umbrellas that stood in front of your table, as you let this smell of earth, grass, and dirt sift through your nose…

A rewarding smell filled you with warmth that you can find when you’re wrapped up in a blanket beside a roaring fireplace… It conjured memories of sweet songs, quiet yet heart-thundering moments wherein you felt in touch with the world…

It was slowly reminding you of something that you’ve lost before…

And now regained.

“Well that’s a surprise,” Penny’s voice broke through your trance as she brushed droplets off her already damp jacket. “Weatherman did mention a slight drizzle, but I didn’t expect it to be at this time…”

You were slowly coming to your senses when you felt a hand on yours.

You look up to find your friend’s worried eyes surveying you. After everything that happened – after discovering the violent side of a _friend_ whom she thought was a peace-loving, sweet-natured gentleman… After finding out how you managed to court danger despite wanting peace yourself… You couldn’t blame Penelope for worrying about what’s going on in your head when things don’t appear as what they seem to be.

“Are you ok?” she softly mentioned your name, as you found yourself smiling this time as you looked around, eyes up to the sky. “What are you thinking about?”

You took a deep breath. “It’s that _beautiful_ smell…” Your voice was soft, but clear. “It’s that smell of grass and dirt, the smell of soil mixing with the rain after it fell…”

Penny looked around, the chaos of the servers running around to shield the customers from the rain slowly subsiding as the pitter-patter of water falling on the unfurled patio umbrellas slowly brought back the humdrum of the supposed slow afternoon. “What smell is that?” she asked curiously, slowly being pulled into that same trance you seem to be in.

 

You close your eyes again.

 

“ ** _Petrichor._** ”

 

Your friend might have made an expression akin to someone looking impressed or someone discovering something new… But to you – the expression you held at that very moment – an expression that clearly reflected your current feelings, honestly for once, was something you treasured at that very moment.

You finally felt _free_.

 

 


	22. Sweet Dreams are Made of These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the resolution of the whole Mattie incident, you were expecting tranquil waters and sunny days ahead for you and your gracious "landlord". But for some reason, your inner conscience just won't give you a break as you start dreaming about the Professor suggestively...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Wolfie](http://iamthebadwolf85.tumblr.com) for helping me proof this chapter! So much love, as always <3

 

**_Lily Jones_ **

>>Omg, I heard what happened

>>>Are you okay?

 

**_Melanie Carter_ **

>>GURL

>>>SERIOUSLY

>>>I DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING

>>>WHAT THE HELL

>>>WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT BLOKE

 

**_Penny Wilton_ **

>>>Have you heard?

>>>A complaint has been filed against Mattie from the Humanities Department

>>>Apparently the School Disciplinary Board had gotten wind about the incident

>>>Do you think Hiddleston’s involved with all of this?

>>>But didn’t you say he knows nothing at all?

>>>Did you tell him?

 

Apparently, word travels fast.

You wondered how long you could keep the showdown in the Library a secret before the whole school found out. However, with the developments concerning the confrontation the other day, you were starting to wonder what Tom would have made out of it as well.

Unable to answer longer than a few texts, you found yourself worriedly tapping your chin with the tip of your phone as you stood outside the Professor’s flat, holding a box of donuts as promised. It was almost late and you’ve merrily returned from the peaceful little tea session you shared with Penny, as you managed to let go of your current worries with talk about the holidays, movies, and the future.

Eventually, you were ready to return home to your pretend domestic life with the Professor, when your phone started buzzing with some sort of excitement, with these inquiring minds having no idea of the brutality done to you.

Looking at your donuts, you wished that you went grocery shopping instead.

If Penny was right, this was going to be an interesting dinner.

And it would be easier to talk to the Professor if his mouth was stuffed with food.

Shaking your head, you decide to at least own up to whatever shit you have started (and everything else that followed with it), as you enter the building and ascended the stairs, telling yourself that at least Tom deserves to know _something_ about what happened two days ago. At least, the consolation was the whole event was already over.

As you cautiously move up the stairs with your sweets in tow, you were about to pull out the spare key the Professor has entrusted you ever since you started using his flat as a sanctuary, when you heard the muffled sound of scuffling and chairs being quietly pushed from beyond the door.

You take a deep breath as you momentarily press your forehead against the wooden surface of 211, before exhaling a huge sigh as you knock twice on the door.

There was silence.

It was then followed by a soft yet inquiring, “Who is it?”

You quizzically look at that spare key that was eagerly handed to you on that second day of supposed “recuperation” when your bruises were still blue. “It’s me!” You wince as you answered, wondering what expression should you be wearing when he opens the door considering that you already have a feeling that he knew about what went down the other day…

Luckily, you were quick to decide to wear a childish little smile as you held the donuts in front of you when the door opened.

“ _Pumpkin!_ ” He said as he was seemingly surprised, although you saw those eyes light up when he saw the box of donuts. “I was already wondering if you were going to be around for dinner and – _oh you shouldn’t have._ ”

He made the same face you were making that time when he offered you a spare cupcake when the abusive man-child managed to rudely snag one from under your nose.

“But…” You rocked back and forth on your heels, wondering how you could wipe away that adorable pout he was making on his face. “They had Matcha Cream Glaze, Oreo Glaze, Orange Sunset, Mango Tango, Berry Dot and a whole new bunch of flavors we haven’t tried yet.”

You didn’t notice how Tom managed to grip the door so hard his knuckles turned white as he watched you trying to list down the number of flavors you wanted to try on top of your head. However, you did notice how the smile on his face slowly melted into something else as those eyes became glazed with something you’ve been ignoring for years as he began to bite his lower lip.

“ _And I promised!_ ” You said indignantly as you almost stomp your feet like a little child complaining to her father.

Still biting his lower lip and looking like an amused yet disgruntled older brother who was convinced by his younger sister to go on a concert gig that he would pay for, Tom found himself rubbing the back of his head, ruffling his curls as he opened the door for you, seemingly persuaded.

“Alright alright,” he said with a bashful chuckle. “Come in! I hope you don’t mind if we’re having Chinese takeaway.”

You suddenly felt as you were a big bother for dinner, and were suddenly worried that he’d have to half the dishes to share with you just because you turned up without informing him. But to your surprise, you saw two big oyster pails sitting on the work table. When you turned to look at him, the Professor was wearing this big, knowing grin on his face, making your knees feel wobbly again.

“You shouldn’t have,” You sighed as you tilted your head, not recognizing how you managed to echo his words earlier. But before you could even say another word, you found him wagging a finger in your direction.

“Oh, don’t even start,” he exclaimed, earning him a little chuckle as you set the donuts down beside his takeaway bag.

As much as you didn’t want him to worry about you, you eventually had to accept that Tom always got you covered, a realization that dawned on you as he handed you one takeaway box. You also realized that the man definitely has great taste – no matter what cuisine it was, as you both opened your oyster pails and a scrumptious aroma filled the room.

You found yourself staring down a syrupy red liquid coating deep-fried golden brown shrimp, along with crispy onions, bell peppers, carrots, and other local vegetables. You close your eyes and your nose picked up the aroma coming from his box, as you spied the hint of sesame oil immersed in breaded fish pieces with salted black beans mixed with the fried rice.

Seeing the delight on your face, the Professor opened the bag and took out a small container that had a good amount of brown crispy-like noodles that can be shared between two people, topped off with sauce-covered pork, mushrooms, vegetables, and a few quail eggs that accented the dish. With how you noticed how thick the noodles were, you suspected that it is considered as the “special” noodles on the menu that costs a bit on the extra.

“Are you fattening me up,” you exclaim after taking a bite out of one of your sweet-and-sour shrimps. “Are you Gingerbread Witch?”

You received a small chuckle as he retrieved a bowl and served you with noodles from the pack. “You could say that,” he said with a boyish smile, playing with his chopsticks a bit before digging into his rice. “But let’s just say there doesn’t need to be a reason.”

You almost dropped your own chopsticks.

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, completely forgetting about the world around you because of the altercation caused by your classmate. “I completely forgot about your callbacks for _Much Ado!_ ” You take a small gulp, swallowing a small piece of carrot. “How did you do, by the way?”

There was a gleam in Tom’s eyes as you remembered his schedule from two days ago. “It was just a small interview with the Producers and the Casting Agent,” he muttered as he fumbled with his utensils a bit, taking a bite of his fish. “Nothing’s set in stone but,” he leans in to whisper to you. “They say they’re narrowing down the list.”

You cover your mouth. “And are you on it?”

“Hayley says I am,” he said with a wink. “Of course, I’d take her word for it.”

A smile spread on your face as you brought your hands together, clapping eagerly for him. He wore a boyish grin for quite a while as he straightened up on his chair, before taking another bite of his dinner.

You both ate in silence for a while, savoring your dishes as you sampled the noodles.

“How about you,” Tom spoke up as you surveyed those orange-colored quail eggs you were about to pop in your mouth. “What have you been up to lately?”

“Nothing much,” Chewing down the protein-filled orange ball, you had to swallow first before turning to face him. “Just met up with old friends.”

When you got a glimpse of his face, the smile was gone.

What greeted you were two calculating eyes that reflected a tinge of sadness, complimenting a knowing smirk on his lip that was slightly stained with food. As much as you wanted to wipe away the sauce from the corners of his mouth, you just knew that the gesture (you never had the courage of doing) will not erase the grave expression on his face.

“ _Old friends_ ,” he murmured quietly, subtly mimicking you as he popped an egg in his mouth, chewing quietly. “I guess ‘ _old friends_ ’ had to do something with that bruise on your cheek too?”

Your hand quickly flew to your cheek.

Unfortunately, this quick undiscerned movement gave you away, as a small twinge of pain suddenly shot through your cheekbone. Wincing, you couldn’t face that worried smirk growing on the Professor’s handsome face.

“Makeup’s wearing thin now, darling,” he whispered, his voice low. “I suppose the retouch didn’t work.”

He wasn’t wrong. You actually forgot to do a retouch after the concealer was stripped away after the atmosphere post-drizzle at Marriette’s. To think about it, you did get a bit of rain on your face earlier. Either that, or the MAC cosmetics that were handed to you was fake. But then again you couldn’t imagine Penny using fake makeup.

You were trying not to let your thoughts wander around when you completely stopped eating, and you were locked in a slightly uncomfortable staring game with the Professor who was still chewing a bit of his food.

“How long have you known?” Your voice shook as you spoke.

The sad smile appeared on his face again. “Since the other day when you came home late.”

A wave of discomfort went through you, as it slowly robbed you of your appetite. Tom must have noticed it too as you placed your oyster pail down and looked away, unease spreading over your face. You didn’t know why you felt so bad, but at that moment you weren’t in your right mind to decide whether you would approach this like a wounded puppy or a disgraced wolf trapped in a corner.

“Were you,” you whispered. “Spying on me?”

Those eyebrows furrowed. He placed his chopsticks down as he seemingly brushed the surface of his canines with his tongue without opening his mouth. “Don’t say that,” he exclaimed, mentioning your name firmly. “You know I would never do that.”

Now the remorse was setting in. You shouldn’t have said that.

Still trying to figure out the truth, you exclaim, “How did you find out?” You sounded like a child being scolded by her father who found out that she got in trouble in school. But of course, he was never your father. And you weren’t a child.

Brushing the underside of his nose twice, as he placed the half-empty box he was holding on the table. “The librarians at the Humanities Department told me,” he said flatly, those blue eyes surveying you, despite your reluctance to meet his eyes. “There was footage taken.”

You took a deep breath.

As much as you were relieved that there was evidence against that tempestuous man-child, you felt as if you were slowly drowning in guilt for having the Professor becoming involved in all this when you promised yourself that you wouldn’t ask for his help… that you’d leave him out of it.

However, his next words seem to say otherwise.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was pained, and when you turned to look at him, he was wearing this worried expression on his face that would have been enough to crack your cold heart in two.

Your hands forming into fists, you shrugged away the tension forming on your shoulders as you stopped cupping your cheek that was still slightly stinging in the process. You slam your chopsticks down on the worktable, slightly surprising your host, before you managed to somewhat break down and show a bit of your true colors underneath that concealer-covered façade that is your face as you smothered it with your hands.

Your face emerged from your palms as you managed to comb your fingers through your hair as you turned to look at him with eyes that harbored a cross between forlornness and enmity.

“I didn’t want to get you involved.”

Tom puffed out his chest and let out a long sigh.

You knew exactly what he was going to say. “ _You had me involved the moment we became friends_ ” or “ _You can’t let me sit idly by and see horrible things happening to you_ ”. As much as you knew how much he wants to be a permanent part of your life aside from the contract and the previous connections, you had your own reasons why you’re putting him at a distance.

After all, how could you explain to him that _if you wanted to start anew, everything has to be a clean slate first?_

“Before you say anything,” you quickly interrupted him as soon as you saw those lips moving, possibly going to say the same rehearsed lines you’ve been hearing in your head. “I want you to hear me out.”

The Professor paused before closing his mouth as he leaned back against his chair. You can see the impatience and desperation on his face as he pursued a stance wherein he appeared to be inviting and open as he uncrossed his arms and slightly parted his thighs – the gesture of an active listener.

You took a deep breath.

“I know you only have good intentions,” you spoke, now wringing your hands together as it was free from eating utensils. “And I do appreciate it –”

You dared to raise your eyes and meet those blue ones that you believed could read minds. How else would he know when you are burning inside?

“Trust me,” you grip your hands again before releasing them. “I _appreciate it more than what you could imagine_.”

A shadow of a smile formed on the Professor’s mouth, but you were sure that your mind was playing tricks on you.

“I appreciate how you looked out for me, to become a pillar, to be a helping hand, and a shield when times are rough,” you spoke, leaning forward as you wanted him to completely feel your sincerity about the topic. “I really appreciate you are offering to be there – no,” you paused, changing your sentence. “ _I appreciate how you are there for me_.”

Tom lowered his probing blue eyes now, this time with a smile evident on his lips.

You take a deep sigh. “But as much as you are willing to be my knight-in-shining armor,” you couldn’t deny that a smile was forming on your lips as you said that. You weren’t shy anymore if he’d notice it. You completely mean it. “There are battles that I wish to weather on my own. There are some battles that despite clearly needing help, I need to fight alone.”

An expression formed on the Professor’s face, as if he was seemingly disagreeing with what you were saying. However, you tried to drive a point home.

“Because,” you exclaim, straightening up on your seat. “If I do not fight my battles on my own, how will I ever help myself?”

You turned to look at him, eyes now brimming with tears.

He stood there motionless for a while as you caught yourself crying. He watched you as you shook in your seat, as you awkwardly raise a hand and gently wiped away a tear that rolled on your bruised cheek with the back of your fingers.

Breathing deeply as you tried to calm yourself down, you barely noticed how the Professor took a deep shaky breath as he suddenly stood up and moved quietly towards you.

You watched him drop on his knees that he ended up being on the same level as your face,, considering his height. You found yourself being pulled into a hug, as he was failed to see the shocked expression forming on your face as he held you close against his chest.

“I completely respect that,” he whispered in your hair, with his arms tightly wound around your torso, his hands meeting just below your shoulder blades. “I am proud that you believe that.”

He closed his eyes. “But you have to remember that even if you are a strong woman,” he paused, with those blue eyes looking hazy for a while. “And despite your strength – a force to be reckoned with, if you ask me – you need to understand that help is always there for you when you need it. Just look and you’ll find it.”

Tears continued to fall down your eyes as you heard those words flow out of his mouth.

“ _You will find me._ ”

Unable to hold back, you manage to throw your arms around his neck as you reciprocated the gesture. You did not think about underlying interpretations or malice wound around the deed, as all you can think of was the sincerity of his words. It was all you ever wanted. It was all you ever needed.

Upon sensing how your tense body loosened up in his arms ~~;~~ ,  the Professor couldn’t help but smile as he buried his lips against your shoulder.

“ _You are not alone_.”

 

 

***

 

 

Peppermint.

You can smell that tell-tale waft of peppermint on your clothes again.

Lying in bed, drifting towards sleep after the rest of that dinner that was comfortably eaten in silence, you find yourself staring up at the ceiling again, thinking about your friend’s words. The way it was said... The words themselves felt like extra potent kindling thrown in to ensure that the fires deep inside of you continue burning. If not, even more.

 

 _You are not alone_ , he said.

 

You close your eyes, listening to his voice in your head. You knew that this was that turning point when you wanted to take back everything you ever did or said.

 _Control_ , _however,_ you thought, _is still definitely on the list._ Maybe you can stomp down those clandestine feelings you had, but you cannot deprive the Professor of your affections anymore. It just wasn’t fair, and he did say this before. _You needed to give back._

 _And damn_ , you couldn’t help but mention in your brain. _That way he held me earlier…_

You grit your teeth for a while as you remembered how he held you tight against his muscled torso, pressing your chest against those sculpted pectorals.

You bite your lip.

And then you realize what you were doing as you shook your head and turned around in your bed.

You’ve been having those thoughts ever since you shared that bathtub chastely with him. Those deep _intrusive_ thoughts…

Okay maybe, they weren’t intrusive at all. They were the exact same thoughts and feelings you succumbed to that night you turned up drunk at his door and rode him hard on his bed. But since you were busy trying to deny them the whole time you spent your nights with him, your brain couldn’t help but call them _intrusive._ When in fact you’ve been thinking about it for a long time now, especially when he took you in his care after the whole Post-Carmen fracas.

 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

 

Of all the times he slept with you in the past, you told yourself that it was forced. In fact, you told yourself that even the contract was forced, despite the fact that it was originally your idea to approach him as your secret “benefactor”. But then again, you couldn’t deny that you liked it every single time you let him fuck you in the past, to a point you actually had multiple orgasms per encounter.

Tom is and always been a good fuck.

And aside from that, you remember his smile, his kindness…

You knew he was even more than that.

_And yet you repressed everything – your happiness, your feelings… for what?!_

_For **her**?_

 

You angrily bury your head in the pillow that you were holding as you try to erase the image of your best friend, the Professor’s ex, in your head.

 

Now things are getting harder for you as _sex_ with the Professor seems like _unknown_ territory ever since he took a step back upon seeing your body bruised and beaten up by a previous dubious lover --

_You realize that you never wanted him this bad._

 

Flipping on your back as you left your fluffed pillow on the side, you stare at the ceiling again trying to get some sleep as you brush away the thought of Tom whistling as he cleaned up the stove and the table as you washed used utensils after dinner. Also, you tried to will away that image of those hips quietly swaying to his little tune, trying not to imagine that pelvis slamming into someone’s –

 

 

_Groan._

 

 

Your eyes widened.

You heard _it_ and yet despite your mouth being agape – _you knew it didn’t come from you_.

 

 

_Hummm…_

_Ah!_

 

 

Your eyebrows furrowed.

You were sure that Tom sheepishly grinned at you as you retired to bed, indicating he was to use the bathroom next right after your little shower. He didn’t overstay in there did he? I mean, it’s just in between your rooms... He couldn’t have been soaking in the bath, chest rising in the bubbles with one hand in between his...

 

 

_Hnguh!_

 

 

You nearly leapt out of bed as you quickly sat up, your eyes blurring as you heard it.

You were sure that voice was a woman’s.

Hands gripping the duvet, knuckles turning white, you tried to reason with your brain that the Professor is a grown man who can take any woman of his choice to bed. I mean, he could have sneaked out to some pub or bar while you tried to sleep and hooked up with someone, right? You swore you have dozed in and out of consciousness twice ever since you tucked yourself into bed… it might have happened in between those moments when you were asleep.

You understood that Tom had needs too.

He’s a healthy man with quite a sexual appetite that has been proven to you before, and it’s just right that he’d try to satisfy his needs somewhere else. Your heart swelled with the idea of the man not forcing himself onto you despite the initial coverage and treatment of the contract, and you suddenly realized that it is true that the Professor is doing all he can to respect your space after everything that had happened between you and your previous lover.

But still you couldn’t ignore that bile rising up your throat upon the thought of Tom taking up another sexual playmate in this time of drought for you…

And you were practically very close friends now!

Why wouldn’t he confide this information to you?!

But who are you to him anyway…

You could not understand what your body was doing at that exact moment as you seemed to have floated out of bed. The supposedly carpeted floor of the guest room felt cold to the soles of your feet as you found your hand opening the door.

 

 

_Ahhhhhhh…_

 

 

You heard it again.

The deep baritone and wanton depth of the groan confirmed that it was indeed Thomas moaning. You felt something tug in your insides that made you feel sick.

 _A contract is just a contract…_ Your brain seems to remind you as the long winding hall towards the Professor’s door seemed to grow closer with every light-footed step you take outside of the guest room and towards his. _You yourself told him that this was nothing but on paper, an agreement that eventually will have a deadline_.

One day that agreement will be null and void, and you will be free of your physical duties towards him.

He would be free of the same instances.

And of course, Tom will eventually find his own life apart from you. _I’m just his friend_ , you remind yourself as the moaning grew louder as you made it closer towards the shut door. _Friend with benefits, if you would have to classify that… And I used to hate doing sexual favors for him so much…_

Deep in your heart, the last sentence wasn’t that _true anymore_.

You bite your lower lip.

You took another step on the cold hardwood floor when you heard that voice that clearly wasn’t Tom’s. **_She_** was whimpering. You can hear desperation and thirsty gasping in between heaves of ecstasy. A feral deep grunt replied to her cry, as you hear the creaking of the bed, causing for you to press your thighs together, remembering how you once moved his bed slightly from its original position with how you mercilessly rode his cock under the influence of alcohol.

You heard his lover whimper once more, before breaking into a high-pitched erotic wail, an indication that he’s probably hitting her right spots.

Clutching the collar of your sleeping shirt, your hand paused over the knob of his door as you can hear the creaking of the bed growing louder.

All of a sudden, you really felt sick to your stomach.

There was this feeling urging you to just turn around and go back to bed, forgetting everything that could have happened. Although seriously, putting up a face the next morning during the next morning as his new lady love probably dresses up to leave would be painful and awkward as heck.

And yet you couldn’t help but wonder what’s behind the door to quench the questions burning inside your brain --

 

_Why do this?_

_Why would I think that he’d never take on another sexual partner?_

_How dare I think that I’d be the end all to his sexual pleasures?_

_I didn’t even want him in the first place…_

_I told myself I wouldn’t want him…_

_Who am I to him anyway? I’m just a friend with benefits and a contract --_

_What right do I have to be **jealous**_?!

At least now you could admit that you were.

Heart thundering loud inside your chest, you tried to think twice but then you find your hand turning the knob and slowly opening the door.

Assuming the role of the voyeur and knowing that there is no turning back, your curious eyes decided to do the deed.

 

 

_Hngh._

_Gasp!_

_Oh God –_

 

 

The two lovers were too preoccupied with each other to notice that they were being watched.

Your eye, peering through the small gap in the doorway, fell upon the dimly-lighted body of a man on his knees, with sweat dripping down from his brow as he concentrated on his so-called ‘prey’.

It was definitely the Professor.

And he was naked like the day he was born.

His entire body was tense, as a side-desk lamp illuminated those rippling muscles that strained with every thrust that his chiseled body could heave against his lover. Your knees quivered upon the sight of him, remembering those early days of the contract when he would viciously strip down to nothing before throwing himself on you as you lie on his bed.

You watch that beautiful angled face as he gritted his teeth, producing an obvious clench on his jaw as his hips bucked against his lover’s ass, pushing her harder against the bed.

Ignoring that weakening feeling on your knees, you let your eyes slowly wander down so you could get a glimpse of his treasured secret lover -- the one whom he chose to spend the night with.

She was on her knees as well, that beautiful naked body hunched over with her hair covering her face as she lies slumped on the mattress. She would naturally emit moans every few intervals that Tom would thrust himself in between her legs from the back, with the duvet surrounding her as she clenched them firmly in her hands.

 

 

_Nguh –_

_Agh!_

_God – Fuck –_

 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the Professor struggle to contain his desire as his long, veined hands almost sank against the girl’s hips, gripping her hard as he continued to drive his rutting cock in between her legs, causing her to almost fall forwards with every thrust. His movements were raw yet calculated, as if he wanted to sink deeper inside of her, but he didn’t want to hurt her even further.

But the sensual dance they had was completely in sync of each other, something you felt you never had with Tom. You watched in some form of awe and envy as he continues to push himself against her and yet she struggles to grip the bed and slam her ass back against his hips in full force.

It was beautiful, the way she responded to his movements…

The way she managed to moan in seeming reply to his grunts, and the way she rotated her hips to his every thrust -- You watched and wondered if your head would ever let your body answer back to his in that way. And the way she whimpered… It was as if she was asking him to take her soul as well. It was shrill, yet sweet… forceful yet pleading…

Despite their movements being rough and feral, their lovemaking was filled with passion and desperate need of each other’s physical presence.

You start to wonder if the Professor ever saw himself making love to you this way.

But then you remember telling him that you never considered any sex within the contract to be part of any lovemaking between you two, as if you were insinuating that you could never fall in love with him.

You stand there watching, now in complete admitted bitterness, a love scene that you unconsciously wished had been yours. It was a thought that you swore never crossed your mind in the past. And as you stand to realize that _maybe_ you were starting to adore Tom’s restrained affections towards you for the past few days --

But then you have to admit as you watched him devour another woman. That maybe you didn’t deserve those affections at all --

 

 

_Moan…_

_Agh!_

_D-Darling…_

 

 

And yet, you couldn’t look away.

Despite the sickening pain you were feeling in your chest, you couldn’t look away.

Like steel to a magnet, like a moth to a flame, you continued to watch as your Professor-Friend demonstrated his prowess in the bedroom to an unknowing prey who seemed to enjoy how she was being ravaged.

Trying to find his breathing in between gasps, the consistent manner of how Tom gripped the faceless lady’s hips began to slip as he ran his hands around her naked, sweat-glistened body. Caressing underneath her torso to grope her breasts, he ran his hands on her back as he traced her spine, eliciting a strained moan from the girl as he did so. Settling his hands to grip her thighs, you watched those muscled pectorals dripping with perspiration give a final heave – before he hunched over his lover, covering her back with his naked body.

You heard her emit a haunting cry as a sickening slick sound indicated how he thrust his cock deep inside of her once more, causing the girl to release the now-wrinkled sheets surrounding his bed, with her knuckles white with tension.

Rotating his hips, seemingly slowing down – you warn yourself that their little tryst was about to end and that you had to leave before the Professor notices that his ward had woken up and was now privy to his _other_ clandestine sexual affairs -- if he ever considered keeping them a secret.

Trying to ignore your heavy heart and that ebbing sensation within you that is starting to flow in between your legs, you were about to turn around and go back to your room.

 

 

That was when the Professor grunted loud, and seemingly resumed his sexual ministrations on his lover.

 

 

You saw him pull her up, with his arm hooked around her abdomen, with his other hand holding her head possessively. She was gasping for air, eyes shut tight, as her body trembled with pleasure. She turned her head only for her mouth to be assaulted and smothered by Tom’s waiting lips.

His kisses were rough, and brimming with hunger, as he deliciously pulled her already wet lips into his mouth, before releasing them with a loud wet pop. Once she tried to breathe for air, he managed to slip his pink tongue in between her parted teeth, causing her to momentarily choke on it, before she started moaning against his mouth.

The moment he released her lips to let her gasp for air, you managed to get a glimpse of his lover’s face.

Your eyes widened as you felt your entire body stiffen.

 

Despite being etched with lust and strained with pleasure, you could recognize that face anywhere.

 

 

In fact, you can see that face _if you looked into a mirror._

 

 

You almost dropped on your knees, disbelieving what you saw.

 

She cried out – and you heard _your_ voice loud and clear as the Professor furiously nipped at her jaw, with his hips begging to thrust against her ass again.

As if watching a mirage, your legs began to give way and yet you couldn’t leave your spot in front of the door.

Unable to turn your head away from the surreal scene, you wonder how you’re standing there when _in fact the body the Professor is ravishing also belongs to you._ As you start to question whether you’re dreaming or not, your entire body began to overheat as you felt a tingling sensation burning underneath your clothes and on your skin… as you are now stuck in your position, watching an image of yourself being cradled by Tom in his arms.

Returning to the scene on his bed, he captured the chin of the other persona who has _your_ face, as he hungrily lapped at _your_ lips. You watched with disbelief and hunger as those huge hands and long fingers began to explore _your_ naked body, caressing _your_ stomach before slowly rising up to cup _your_ breasts.

A shiver went through the other girl’s body – in parallel to the one that went through you at that _exact_ moment. It was as if you were starting to feel what he was doing to your mirage.

Limp and overwhelmed with pleasure, you can only watch as Tom turned to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“ _I know what you have always wanted, darling_ ,” he hummed into _your_ ear – or at least at the other image you were looking at, as you watched him slowly lower that one hand massaging _your_ breast, making its way in between your legs.

Next thing you knew, Tom had flicked his piercing blue eyes in your direction – as if he could see past the gap in the door and knew _you_ were there, watching this bizarre vision of _him_ fucking _you_.

His hands slipped in between _your_ thighs and found that one thing that makes you scream when its gently flicked.

At that exact moment, you watched the _other version of you_ shuddered in complete response, climaxing right on his fingers, drenching it with her juices. While the _current version of you_ – at least the one you are aware of – the one who was playing voyeur through his door gap, screamed as you managed to hunch your shivering body over the floor.

An intense desire filled your body as a burning fire of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You frantically dug your hands through your panties – discovering how soaked it was.

You almost collapsed to the floor as you felt someone else’s orgasm course against your body…

And then everything turned black.

 

 

***

 

 

You opened your eyes, gasping.

Sweating in the cold, you found the sheets tangled around your torso, with your shirt now hiking up your stomach, almost revealing a breast. Hurriedly pulling it down as you felt a bit of shame, you sit up as you slip a hand between your legs, only confirm the truth – that _you were wet_.

“ _Fuck,_ ” you hissed in between your gritted teeth as you looked around in the dark, seemingly listening for activity in the flat.

Aside from the gentle whirr of the heater, you couldn’t hear anything else. Save for a very soft almost non-audible snore that seemed to be coming from somewhere within the flat…

Chest heaving, you fell back against your pillows, trying to catch your breath.

 

It was so intense, _as if it was real_.

 

The touch, the feelings, and now as you lay back trying to think about it – you were quite sure that maybe you were feeling Tom’s caress as well despite having them done _on the other girl_ who also happened to be… _you?_

 

It was so bizarre.

 

Though it was all such a shame; everything was just one weird dream.

And yet you wonder, _what does it all mean?_

Despite your confusion, you remember those cold piercing blue eyes that seemed to knowingly smile at you, _knowing something that you didn’t_.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“ _Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality?! The Kinsey Reports?!_ ”

You were wondering why the glare on your face couldn’t shut Penny up despite the fact that you were both in the library.

Penelope has designated herself as your chaperone ever since the library incident. There was no exact reason for her to be in the library either, but she isn’t letting you risk another confrontation without her around. As if there is still something there to confront.

Well you did have something else to meet head-up on, but it wasn’t a deviant and abusive predator masquerading as a friendly colleague. This time, it’s an issue that has been hounding your head since the night before.

No – it’s something that has been bothering you for a _very long time_ now.

“Ive—I’ve got a research to do on Sexuality,” you lied as you sat down beside her with several books in tow, trying not to make eye-contact with your friend.

As you were trying to leaf through those thick-spined books sitting in front of you on the desk, you were trying to ignore that mischievous knowing look forming on your seat-mate’s face as you continued checking the digital receipt that stated the due date of your books.

By the time you were done trying to mark down the supposed dates of the books’ return, you found yourself staring at Penny’s smile that now resembled the Cheshire Cat’s

“What?!” you had to screech at her in a lower register considered that despite the library being sparsely populated at the moment, you still had to consider the required silence.

Your friend snorted. “You don’t have a Sexual Research course,” Penny exclaimed, pulling the flap of her messenger bag open as she took out a tablet.

You felt your ears burn when you heard her say that as-a-matter-of-factly.

“I didn’t say it was for a course –“ You shot back at her, trying to lower the tone of your voice when you saw the librarian peeking from her station just across the room.

Leaning back on her chair, looking smug, Penelope smirked and muttered, “Well I would have believed you if you said that Professor Hiddleston assigned you those readings.”

 

Your eyes turned red.

 

_Could she read your mind?_

 

“ ** _SHUSH._** ” You hissed at her loudly that you actually earned a glare from the younger librarian who was making the rounds around the hall.

 

Once the librarian with the sharp look finally disappeared in the Classics section, you managed to wipe that sheepish smile you were wearing on your face so you could give your seatmate a pointed look before deciding to bury your nose into one of Freud’s books.

Having searched the internet in complete and utter confusion, you decided that you weren’t going to rely on DreamMoods.Com to solve that disturbing dream you had last night. You were convinced that whatever deeper meaning it is couldn’t be solved by a website with its layout styled after some Astrology-related column you used to look at back in college.

But as you scan through theories upon theories (and a few anecdotes and tests) by scientists who became a cornerstone in Psychology, the more your stubborn-logical mind tried to deny the inner workings of your true conscience despite how reasonable every explanation was.

However, Freud started to make sense and you can feel that voice inside of you slowly giving up…

Not to mention the fact that you can still feel that gamine grin plastered on your friend’s face despite not looking in her direction. Although you can hear her swiping through her subtly beeping iPad, you were sure that she was still quietly judging you as you leafed through those suggestive readings. As much as it isn’t Penny’s true nature to be too disparaging, you knew she was one to tease.

Ignoring your intrusive thoughts, you decide to get back to reading passages that would hopefully give you comfort as it explained whatever the fuck you were thinking or dreaming about last night…

 

 

_We have already asserted elsewhere that dreams which are conspicuously innocent invariably embody coarse erotic wishes, and we might confirm this by means of numerous fresh examples. But many dreams which appear indifferent, and which would never be suspected of any particular significance, can be traced back, after analysis, to unmistakably sexual wish-feelings, which are often of an unexpected nature. For example* —_

 

 

Too busy making aghast faces at the book you were holding, you barely noticed how Penny lowered her tablet and dropped her jaw in the subtlest way possible as she tried to nudge your ribs without causing too much friction with those bruises she can’t see but knows that they exist.

 

_Nudge._

_Nudge._

_Nudge._

 

“ _What_ ,” you hissed back at her, unable to hide that discomfort on your face as you tried not to put the book down. But this was your own miscalculation as she continued to nudge your rib, trying to direct your attention somewhere else.

With her quiet pestering not helping with that growing anxiety that was caused by realizations of feelings within you, coupled with the mystery of how your subconscious was fucking with you last night, you decided to give Penny a piece of your mind as you placed the book down.

“ _Penny, I swear, what is it –_ “

Following the direction of her stare, you came face to face with this graceful creature making his way towards your table that was literally at the other end of the room.

He was almost as tall as the bookshelves, although he seemed to dwarf them at a certain angle. But with the way his fitted white dress shirt clung around that chiseled body, you would surmise that this creature belongs in a museum and not a library. And honestly, that waistcoat isn’t helping either.

It didn’t help either that you were gawking at him stupidly as he quietly walked through the students who were also trying to concentrate in their readings, till they were distracted by this tall glass of water who pulled out a chair across you and sat down.

“Hey _Professor_ ,” It was Penny’s teasing, sing-song voice that snapped you out of the silly expression you have on your face, suddenly making you realize the books you were hoarding weren’t exactly the reading syllabus of your Classics Course. “What brings you here?”

There was a twinkle in Tom’s eye as he picked up one of the books from your pile, examining it. “Just doing a little research on Ovid for an upcoming lecture,” he exclaimed, licking his lips as he spied the words _Kinsey Reports_ on the book he was holding, before letting his eyes wander through your stockpile, seemingly trying to read your mind.

In that moment those blue eyes met yours, you watched him lick his lips before knowingly grinning, as he sat back against his chair.

“ _Dream Psychology_ , huh?” he exclaimed, glancing at the book you were holding at an angle, subtly trying to hide the spine and the front.

There was something about the way his eyes suddenly became half-lidded as a big bright grin was plastered on his face as he seemingly excitedly shifted on his seat.

You were actually even wondering why you noticed all of this.

Tinkering with his glasses as he raised it up on his face, he leaned over the table looking straight at you, ignoring the way Penny started to giggle quietly in her seat. “I didn’t know you were into Freud, pumpkin.”

You were sure your cheeks burned pink, but at this point, you can’t do anything about it.

Then there it was; the knowing smile again. You were starting to sweat as you watched those long, dexterous fingers handling the thick-spined book, despite sitting in an air-conditioned facility. Your mind began to wander about what _else_ can those long fingers do – when you realize you needed to speak up upon glancing upon that wide, mischievous grin right in front of you.

Making an expression that was a cross between an eye-roll and a grimace, you returned his smile. “I had a lot of Psychology electives in College,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

Once again, the asshole licked his lips.

Your brain intrusively thought that maybe he’d let you lick them the next time you were alone.

God, you hated your brain right now.

Especially at a time when he’s just sitting a few feet across of you, looking like _heaven_ , clearly turning heads around and yet all he was doing was mischievously checking out your reading list. How dare he make you blush in front of your friend?

 _Damn,_ _Penny would be more than blushing if she found out the things I actually **did** with this guy_ , the voice inside your head goaded you into turning in another shade of red, and right in front of the Professor you were actively hate-crushing on. _Damn, would I even be able to do **all those things**_ _with this specimen again?_

And then you actively remembered _that_ dream all over again.

God bless your patience, if you had no control, you might have wet your underwear then and there.

Leaning back on his chair once more as he placed down the Kinsey book on top of your pile, Tom seemed more amused than concerned about what’s going on in your mind.

“I hope Halloway isn’t trying to overwork your brain right now with all this extra research,” he referred to your Latin Literature Professor who liked having her students delve into other fields for cross-examinations in research papers. “I mean, _come on_ –“ He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t she just give you ladies a 4000-word paper to write about _Elektra_?”

You felt exhausted just trying to think about that writing assignment.

“But –“ you started. “ _This is a Graduate Program, not an Undergraduate Spoon-feeding course._ ”

You found yourself reciting that same line from memory along with Penny, who looked at you and comically wrinkled her nose. I mean, it’s true, as you students just _love_ whining. QAnd the more you whine and complain apparently, as you get older and get a 9-5 paying job. Graduate students like you think that you have the right to protest about the tuition you pay. Professor Halloway would remind you all that you’re enrolled in a Higher Learning Program that requires _more work_ since you’re supposedly _Professionals_ who deserve more of a challenge than those “spoiled” undergraduates.

“Well that’s true,” said the young Professor who sat in front of you, nodding, as he ran his finger across his 5-day stubble. “But I hope she doesn’t harass _you_ too much with these…” He gestured nonchalantly on the supposed “readings” that he didn’t know that you assigned to yourself.

Once again, you see that _twinkle_ in those blue eyes. “Because I’ve got _plans_.”

Just hearing him _speak_ like that again brought you back to the first few days of the contract.

You didn’t know why, but an electrified tingle ran from the tip of your spine and shot straight into that special little nub in between your legs. You were sure that he saw that expression you made at him too, and that delicious smile he shot you once more gave away the fact that maybe Tom could read minds.

If he does, then you would have been _dead_ since Day One.

How did things turn out _this way_ nonetheless if he knew _exactly_ what you were thinking?

Maybe he never was a mind reader.

But what if it was easy to _read you now_ since you’ve visibly changed over the past few months? And at this point, he’d know you better than other people?

The thought both scared and excited you.

So you found yourself making a face at him akin to a gawking bird. “What do you mean that _you’ve got plans_?!” The way he licked his lips and _chuckled_ as he shifted on his seat just made you slightly infuriated. “Are you going to take over one of my class or lectures or something –“ you started, squinting at him, when he suddenly burst out chuckling.

He had to tone down when the elderly librarian had to peek from her desk and shush him.

“Nothing of that sort,” he whispered, those eyelids flitting as he seemingly stole a _look_ in your direction. “But that does sound tempting.”

You stick your tongue out at him, ignoring the way Penny was now hiding her face behind a thick-spined book titled _Predictably Irrational_ , trying so hard not to giggle out loud.

“I am so relieved you’re not my teacher,” you shot at him. Although when he turned to look at you, he was surprised to see you wearing a smile, trying not to giggle as well.

His response on the other hand, just made you visibly shiver.

“You know that can be arranged,” he disclosed as he stood up from his chair, ending his statement with a wink.

Flabbergasted _and trying so hard not to sound-or-look-turned-on_ , you could only grunt in reply as he bid you and Penny goodbye (who only shot him a cheerful “ _See ya, Professor!_ ”) before turning around and leaving the table.

“I’ll see you later,” he even implored as he turned to look at you with quite a naughty grin before completely exiting the library.

You didn’t know what possessed you that exact moment. To a point that you couldn’t even reply.

Whether it was the smile, the wink, or the way his voice dropped when he said “ _I’ll see you later_ ”; you just couldn’t tell how he managed to render you speechless at that moment.

And what baffled you was that as much as you were the firecracker to shoot down his incessant flirting in the past and how there were times when you were actually that _brave_ to actually _flirt_ back, this time you didn’t have the wit to do so. And it left you looking like a flabbergasted owl whose meal was just plucked out from under its nose.

And yet you wonder why…

Is it because _his flirting is actually working on you?_

“ _That could be arranged,_ huh?” Your seatmate muttered without looking up from her book, clearly sounding chuffed. “I wonder what kind of _arrangement_ that is…”

You went in the library to find answers to your subconscious. But now as you look at the books you carefully selected scattered right in front of you, there didn’t seem to be a single issue resolved for you concerning your dreams.

In fact, the events that happened in the library just clearly made you sexually frustrated, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

Reminding yourself not to check out the books and take them home, you frustratingly slam _Dream Psychology_ on top of the pile and hissed at Penny. “ _Shut up._ ”

Her silent laughter however, was infectious.

 

 

***

 

 

It all depended on you for things not to seem awkward over dinnertime.

You were lucky that Tom suddenly had this hankering to have takeaway again while watching _Singin’ in The Rain_ on his Netflix account. You really didn’t chat much except for the trivia he dropped about Fred Astaire being involved with inspiring Debbie Reynolds to dance and other notable facts that randomly popped in his head about the movie. As much as it would have been awkward to have a human Wikipedia warbling beside you, it was a relief that Tom didn’t bring up the Sex Psychology books he saw on the library table in sitting front of you.

However, it was in the quiet little details and gestures that got to you after dinner.

While you were both cleaning up, you were busy washing the rest of the dishes when you suddenly found him behind you, trying to return a cleaned glass bowl that were earlier filled with popcorn on a top shelf. It didn’t help that you can feel his breath against your neck when he whispered “Pardon me” as he had to press himself against your back so he can reach the higher cupboard. How much more when you felt that obvious bulge in his pants brush in between your legs and right against your ass?

You find yourself awake and heavily frustrated as you quietly retreated in your room, staring at the ceiling again.

As much as you used to think that living with him was a bad idea since you were afraid that he’d take advantage of you, it turned out to be worse when you realize that it would end up testing you whether you’d give in to your sexual frustrations or not.

It was like that night with the gin and tonic once more, but this time you didn’t feel the agency to actually act on your desires.

And you used to think that maybe he’s the pervy one.

It was just so bizarre that the tables are now turned for the two of you. You’re the one who’s left wanting – anything, whether it’s sex or intimacy, and the kind-hearted, good-natured Professor should be the one protected from your desires.

You somehow attempt to comfort yourself as you frowned up at the ceiling, saying that you deserved all of this.

But just as you were contemplating sleep, with the notion of just shrugging off everything that happened since tomorrow’s gonna be a new day, you remembered the dream and suddenly were scared to close your eyes.

Grumbling to yourself, you turn to your side, hugging your pillow.

You started to wonder if everyday would be like this – just hours upon hours of sexual frustration. At least it would be the case, if you were left in the house with Tom. Now of course, if you needed to attend some classes in University, you’d have some sort of breathing room since you’d be around 3-6 hours away from him (save the few hours you spend in coffee shops, either reading or writing, pretending to be busy just so you wouldn’t deal with your smouldering landlord). But then you remember that he teaches in the same Campus…

Of course, it would be easy for you to just – disregard practice and protocol and you’d just go straight for his –

 _No_ , you tell yourself. _I can’t lower myself to that_. _After all, that kind of behavior was what I despised the most, didn’t I?_

And then you hear _that_ foreboding voice in your head again…

You barely noticed how the collection of your jumbled thoughts was slowly sinking you into unconsciousness as you began to drift off to sleep. Slowly, that rambling voice in your head began to quiet down as you slowly succumbed to the softness of your bed and your mind wandering into the depths of your subconscious, as much as you feared…

You barely heard the soft _Click!_ that came from the guest room’s door.

It was one of those moments when you’re stepping away from the state of being “half-asleep” and yet you feel as if someone was watching you. If this were a horror story, it would most likely be a malevolent ghost haunting the flat. But since this story is of another genre…

You swore it was the sound someone else’s breathing that caused your eyes to fly open.

Raising your head from the pillow, you turn around and spy a figure standing against your closed door. Your entire body turned stiff as you recognized that tall yet lithe figure with his hands behind him, dressed only in a black wifebeater and a pair of striped jammies.

But what rendered you still, crippled with blinding lust, were those piercing blue eyes that was oozing with desire that very moment. A bad combination with his parted lips. The moment you moved on the bed, you saw a pink tongue dart out of it, licking his lower lip.

It really felt like those days when the contract was new.

And it made your heart beat loudly inside your chest.

“Tom?” You managed to croak your voice out from your parched throat, as you shifted on the bed to move closer against the headboard. You were sure that you didn’t want to get caught sprawled out like the sitting duck you were on the bedspread. But it’s too late to undo that now right? “Are you alright? What’s wrong –“

His voice was hoarse, complementing that feral way he moved from the door and toward you.

“I can’t –“ He squinted for a while, lines forming on top of his nose as he paused in front of your bed, clutching his fists. Seemingly trying to stop himself, you could feel the pain and frustration lined in his voice. “I can’t _help myself…_ ”

For a moment, a glimmer of empathy and compassion was reflected on your face.

It all turned to shock when he hurled himself at you before you could say anything.

 

 

***

 

 

Everything happened in a flash.

In an unexpected manner, you found your head roughly being pulled as you felt a hungry mouth nipping and suckling hard on your lips. Both of your bodies sank against the mattress as you felt that obvious bulge rub twice, thrice, and probably even more than that against the fabric of your panties, making you wet that you already were. It didn’t help at all with his appetite considering you were only wearing a long oversized shirt on it.

But you were already blind with pleasure and desire to even notice how he managed to bring his lips from your face and down your torso, furiously sucking and nipping the whole way.

By the time you got a grip on _some_ of your sense, you realized that he had managed to lift the fabric to expose your legs and your stomach. Impatient and frantic, he initially tried to untangle your underpants from between your legs – until he managed to conveniently part them, exposing your cunt already glistening with your juices.

The expression on his face change from _hungry_ to a level above _predatory_ and _triumphant_ , as a smile spread across those thin lips.

Whatever happened next caused your body to tremble all over as a strained cry escaped your mouth.

 

 

_Aaaaaaaahhhhh!_

 

 

You could barely even hear the whimpers made by your mouth as your head started to spin with the way he buried his mouth in your folds. Conveniently hooking your legs over his shoulder, you felt him brush his cheeks against the inside of each of your thighs, before lewdly sticking his tongue out to lap against your soaked cunt.

The Professor managed to slip both of his hands underneath your ass, lifting them from the bed in order to thrust your folds deeper into his salivating mouth. As he began to suck and lap against you, you began to lose control of how your body trembled and reacted against him, as you turned your head and buried it against the pillow – trying to muffle your cries of pleasure.

And yet he seemed to ignore the way you started to pull against the duvet, threatening to rip it off the mattress.

The noises he made in between your legs sounded so obscene.

 

_Slurp._

_Slurp._

_Slurp._

 

He moaned and hummed against your throbbing folds, seemingly singing to it with his lips slopped up against your labia and his tongue lapping against your pink clit.

If you looked down you could barely see his face, with your crotch and legs completely framing his stubble-surrounded mouth. If you dared to observe him, you would see that he managed to lock into concentration, his eyebrows furrowed as he repeatedly drank and suckled for the sweetest nectar that he had been pining and craving for months and months on end.

With your eyes getting hazier and your need to be filled up becoming even greater, you lose all inhibitions when you felt his hand leave one of your butt cheeks. A thick appendage slowly began to slip inside your wet folds, causing your walls to tremble when it suddenly canted all by itself.

 

_Gasp!_

 

You dared to open your eyes and look down, only to meet a pair of invasive and ravenous blue eyes staring back at you, watching you lose control.

Forced to watch the Professor suckling at your clit noisily as he moved his finger within your folds suggestively, massaging your insides, providing you a preview of what his own thick cock could be doing inside of you when it takes the place of his digits later on.

Hands now freed from the duvet, it flew to grasp those thick golden curls on his head. You began to buck your hips against his face, losing control as every movement of your pelvis caused your body to tremble, with your clit hitting the surface of his front teeth every time.

Every single time you thrust against his mouth, you see him close his eyes seemingly in ecstasy, as his mouth pools with his saliva and your juices.

And every single time you wriggle your hips against his face, your thighs brushing against that stubble, adding a bit more to that sweet tingling feeling inside of you, you feel him suck harder against your clit, with his eyes closing in response.

You decided that you weren’t going to last very long.

 

“Tom,” you cried out to him. “Please…”

 

Without another word from you, you felt him release you with a soft smack, as you had a clear view of how your juices decorated his mouth. However, you barely had time to tremble as suddenly you find him all over you, with those eyes staring down on you as if he wanted to do _more_ than just to tear your clothes off your body…

“Close your eyes,” he whispered against your ear as he began to fumble with his pajamas.

You blinked as you shifted against him, his body sinking against yours. “Why,” you gasp out as you felt his thick veined cock now brushing against your glistening folds.

Turning to look at his face, you see those blue eyes looking pained. “Please, just close your eyes –“ he gasped as he thrust lightly against you, not yet penetrating. “I don’t want you to see me –“

You gasp with every movement of his hips, as he coated his thickness with your natural lubrication.

“But why not –“

You felt him grit his teeth as he looked away, brushing his forehead against yours. “I shouldn’t be doing this…”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

A sinking feeling began to form on your chest -- but it is easily distracted thanks to the heat that formed in between your legs whenever that thick shaft brushed against your waiting folds.

“But Tom –“ you gasped.

He had now completely buried his face in your hair, as you can feel those strained yet breathy wanton gasps from his mouth, bursting against your ear.

 

“ _I feel so ashamed…_ ”

 

His voice sounded so sad and so embarrassed, as you miserably wondered what you have possibly done to make him feel this way. Your heart began to sink, just feeling guilty about the whole thing, thinking that you set him up to do this.

That was when you felt the tip of his shaft press hard against your clit.

 

_Gasp!_

 

Before you can say another word, the man turned to look at you and whispered, “ _Let me cover your eyes._ ”

Unable to retort, your lips were quickly captured by his waiting mouth, still smeared with your sweet nectar as you felt a large hand drape over your eyes, covering it.

And everything turned to black.

 

 

***

 

You wake up in bed once more, alone – with your sweat-stained clothes sticking onto your skin once more.

And yet again, you reach down inside your panties – only to discover that it’s _wet_ and _untouched._

With a weary temperament, you make your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night to get yourself cleaned up. Once you got yourself sorted out with the intention to throw your underwear in the laundry bag, you find yourself looking at your reflection in the small oval mirror as you washed your hands. Judging by the black circles around your eyes, you knew that your subconscious was telling you something that Freud can easily interpret. It just so happened that your logical mind is too stubborn to decode what it’s supposed to be. And you knew, that the more you refused to face it, the more your subconscious will refrain from giving you a good night’s sleep with all those… sexual images…

You peer into your worried expression on the mirror again.

 _Why was he ashamed?_ You couldn’t help but think about those lines whispered by the Professor to you in the dream before you woke up. _Could he be ashamed of wanting to make love to me? Could there be some truth to that in real life? Could he be ashamed of the contract?_

You dropped your gaze back to your washed hands, wondering if karma came around too early to bite you back in the rear. Somehow, you had that lingering thought that maybe if you didn’t recognize or act upon those restrained and frustrated desires from the past, it’ll just grow stronger through the years and seep into your thoughts in the form of dreams no matter how much you willed it away.

 _Maybe it’s time that I at least admit it to myself_ , you say it loud in your head as you turn the faucet off, the sounds of the night and the soft hum of the heater in both your rooms surrounding you. _Maybe I cannot kill my feelings for Tom…_

You found yourself sinking your nails exasperatingly into the towel you were holding. _But he should never know…_

 

 

_Moan._

 

 

Your eyes widened.

You heard it again.

In the middle of the night, and you were sure you were wide awake – you heard that sensual whimper coming from the other room. Hands gripping the sink with your knuckles turning white, you closed your eyes and tried to listen in for it again – making sure that you weren’t dreaming it this time around, and if it was accompanied by another person’s moan.

 

 

 _Gasp!_ _Groan._

 

 

Without thinking twice, you had opened the bathroom door and were staring suspiciously at that closed room at the end of the hall. You weren’t thinking straight anymore – after the dream you had, and how the Professor moved in it, you were sure that you didn’t need a sign.

You just had to take the chance.

Gliding on the wooden flooring, with only the light from the bathroom guiding you, with a hazy head you managed to follow the sensual sounds coming from the other room. Next thing you know, your hand was closed around the knob of the Professor’s door.

You really didn’t intend to think twice, but there was a voice inside your head that was asking you if it was a good idea to barge in Tom’s room when he’s in the middle of his sexual ministrations. After all, you could possibly get away with it in a dream. But this time, it isn’t in your subconscious. Everything seems to be _real_.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly and painstakingly turn the handle, hoping it won’t click.

Luckily, this feat of yours was overridden by another sultry and haunting moan, echoing from within the room.

Wincing, you slowly open the door to create a very minimal gap you can peek from, as you repeatedly told yourself that you wouldn’t regret being a voyeur for once.

Though deep inside, you felt very dirty.

 _Very_ dirty.

Well not as dirty as the sight that greeted you --

 

 

_Ungh..._

 

 

And the sight that greeted you, took your breath away.

Not because it was a work of art (but you do have to admit that _he_ is a work of art), but it’s just you never saw someone in a position of so much restraint laced with passion before.

There he was, sprawled out on the lone lazy boy chair in his room, wearing not even one piece of clothing.

His body was glistening with sweat, as his muscles were tense and strained, as you can clearly see the way they bulged and retracted with the ministrations he was doing. His face was contorted into an expression that blended pain and pleasure, with his eyes squinted shut as he moaned to the heavens.

And his hands...

One hand went everywhere. It was clutching the arms of his chair, then flying upwards to tangle in his golden curls, only to sink his claws on the head of the lazy boy, allowing him to stretch out his body, with his toes pressed hard against his carpeted floor.

The other hand went in between his legs, with his fingers wrapped hard around his throbbing cock. His fist was squeezing and pulling, as his pre-cum coated those long, talented digits, lubricating them even further as he thickened in between his fingers.

 

 

_Oh..._

 

 

The sounds that he made in between intervals and gasps as he pleasured himself sounded heavenly as well. Although they seemed to be a cross between desperation and desire, those labored pitiful moans would repeatedly reach a higher octave, as he seemingly wished to find and grasp some purchase.

And yet despite his cries indicating he was close to reaching his goal, his voice seemed to still call out to someone. With his voice haunting you…

You couldn’t help but approach him now.

With feet as quiet as a mouse, each sole slowly sinking in the rug on his floor, making sure not to make a sound. You do not understand why you emerged from your hiding place from the darkness of the hall, within the door, as you approached him at an angle where he couldn’t see you. After all, the couch he was sprawled on was facing away from where you were standing, and he was slowly sinking up against it, as you could see his long legs almost touching the carpeted floor with his tensioned feet anchoring him in place.

 

 

_Oh God! Hah… hah… Ahhhh…_

 

 

You wouldn’t admit it to yourself, but you _wanted to touch him_.

You wanted to run your hands on that handsome face and cup his cheeks as you kiss him… Run your fingers across that skin pulled over the muscles of his stomach as he gasped and stuttered out your name…

You wanted to free him from this pain caused by desire and let him burst in your mouth. It didn’t sound like you at all, but at that very moment, where you stood, in the hearth of his room with the soles of your feet being warmed up by the thickness of the rug…

You wanted to _comfort him_.

It doesn’t matter if you get caught.

It doesn’t matter if he stops.

It doesn’t matter if it was _him_ and it was _you._

At that exact moment, you wanted to forget everything that was said, everything you’ve ever thought, every perception that ever made and _provide what he’d always craved and wanted_ in the warmth of that room that night.

With one arm outstretched, you almost reached out past the head of his couch to touch a sweat-glistened shoulder, when you heard him moan once more –

 

 

 _He moaned out your name_.

 

 

You were frozen in place.

Eyes as wide as saucers, you watched him bite his lip, and cry out _the same name_ once more, but this time it was littered with curses and venerations as juices began to coat his fingers, his hand barely covering that now thick and throbbing shaft…

His eyes remained shut as he didn’t see you back away.

Your entire body was now throbbing with desire for him as well.

That was when you realize that all of his feelings that were brought about through interactions with you, with everything that happened for the past few days...

Every restrained hug in an attempt to comfort you...

Every small, reserved smile that he had given you...

It has all been compressed and constrained into this one moment when he’d be alone in his room, all to himself, when he’d let go of all of it and just...

Try to _comfort his frustrations..._

If you tried to look closer, past the dim lights in his room, past the way you were frozen on your feet – you would see how tears formed on the sides of his eyes as his orgasm seemed to subside.

The pain of the frustration must have been too much to bear for Tom, despite the release of his desire.

You wanted to throw yourself at him when –

 

Once again, everything turned _black_.

 

 

***

 

 

“ _Argh!_ ”

You rise out of bed, this time angrily flinging the bedspread on the floor, only once more to find your body drenched with sweat that your sleeping shirt is sticking to your skin.

Huffing and puffing, and catching your breath, you look around in the darkness of the guest room to realize that you’ve awakened from another dream – _yet again_.

 

 _How many fucking layers is this dream_ , you angrily hiss in your head as your hands quickly fly out of place to hit you square on the face. _I don’t want to be trapped in an Inception-like nightmare right now…_

 

The sting filled your cheeks, causing you to close your eyes. Despite the cold, you felt your face warm up with the act you just did in an attempt to try to convince yourself that you were no longer trapped in your twisted subconscious. You give it another shot as you heavily pinched both your cheeks once more – and they _stung_ , indicating that maybe this time, _you’re really awake._

Frantically looking in the dark, you didn’t even think about logic or reason as you quickly groped your way towards the door, yanking it open. You just wanted to see _him_. Out of all the dreams you’ve ever had – this was one glaring neon sign that your mind has been telling you that _he’s just there_ and _he’s just probably waiting_ and…

You skid to a stop before you got to his door.

Catching your breath, your reasonable mind tried to ask you what you would say to him in case he finds you peeking through your door. Seriously, voyeurism may have been one of the themes of your dreams, but it isn’t really approved of in real life. And it isn’t really a very nice gesture to offer to your pseudo-landlord, no matter how much you’re aware of how he wanted to bone you -- well at least in the past.

You weren’t sure of his disposition now -- The fact that you were worried about his disposition towards sex completely baffled you. This is not who you were before, and you were clearly aware of it.

 

And yet… You take a deep breath and wonder…

Is he sleeping?

Is he doing exactly what you last dreamt of?

Oh to find him crumpled about himself, trying to reach the peak of his pleasure with the whisper of your name on his mouth…

It was indeed a heavenly vision.

 

But were you the only one who was seeing it?

 

Or were you both sharing the same dream?

 

This was the fact that lingered in your still somewhat half-asleep mind, launching you out of bed and straight towards the Professor’s bedroom door.

Bringing down your hands, you decided to tell him (in case he was awake) that you had a bad dream about him and you wanted to check if he were doing fine. Well, there’s a little bit of truth in that anyway. And also, you couldn’t help but imagine that sweet, sunshiny smile on his face upon seeing you worried, like a child, and even so – dreaming about him…

Convinced, you turn the doorknob.

The room felt warm, like a summer night wherein it’s not too hot that you’d be sweating, but it’s not too cold that you’d completely be shivering underneath a thin blanket. Only a night light was on, standing on his bedside table, giving the room a warm orange glow. It was exactly as you pictured it on his dream.

The only difference was, his lazy boy couch was facing you, and you can see your dutiful Professor-Landlord sleeping on it, with his glasses still sitting on his nose.

You didn’t know why… but you let out this sigh of relief.

Maybe it was because you knew you weren’t ready if you found him in a sexually compromising position. And you knew that despite your dreams were almost akin to those R-18 videos you find online, you knew there was no way you’d get him to jump right into _action_ , considering everything that happened to the two of you. Or at least, to _you_ in particular. And we’re talking about your previous romantic escapades with another man that went awry.

And it’s not that the Professor didn’t want to touch you again after the whole _Matthew_ incident, it’s just that he was gentle enough not to pursue another sexual tryst with you – as he believed that you were still recovering from your wounds, physical and emotional.

As much as he respected you for that, you were absolutely grateful for how he saw you this way – without any word spoken from him at all. And all of this was found in his actions.

Relieved that he was asleep, you couldn’t help but take a closer step to observe his sleeping figure.

His head was tilted, and he was dressed in that same woolen sweater he was wearing a night ago. A book lies open on his lap, threatening to fall to the ground considering that he sat with his knees far apart again. A thick blanket lay on his legs underneath the book, reminding you that it was still somewhat a cold night. You try not to laugh as you notice that his glasses lay crooked on his sleeping face.

Lighted by the lamp, you never realized how an angled face with such sharp cheekbones would look so soft.

And yet in that soft face you see lines and lines of exhaustion, almost aging him a few years. Albeit the lines, he still looks very handsome. You remind yourself never to speak your thoughts out loud, or there is no going back.

Quietly sighing to yourself, you move towards him to pick up the dangling book from his knee as you set it on the lampstand.

Gently closing it, you move back to tenderly remove the glasses from his face, with the tips of your fingertips gingerly brushing his cheeks. You swore you might have felt him sigh against your hand, and you almost froze in your spot, afraid that he’d wake up. However, upon glancing at the way he sat still, lips slightly parted, forming a content smile – you knew he was deeply slumbering. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was dreaming about…

Stepping away quietly, you lightly unfold the thick blanket sitting on his legs so you could softly drape it over him, ensuring that it covers all those limbs that you know could be reached by the cold. It tended to be freezing during the mornings lately, and you would often find yourself curling even further in your own thick blanket in his guest room. You hoped he’d eventually wake up when you’re long gone back in your room and move into bed, so he could sleep soundly.

Surveying your work, you step back and try to freeze-frame the image of your Professor sleeping. As much as you used to consider Tom as an “ _agent of darkness_ ” back when you would be uselessly bickering about _so many things_ , you couldn’t help but admit that he does look like an angel when he’s fast asleep.

_Maybe one day_ , you wonder. _I can convince this angel to fall from Heaven for me._

 

You shake your head upon realizing what you said in the recesses of your mind. Suddenly, you realize that despite claiming how Tom could corrupt _you_ and the _contract_ – maybe _you_ were the corrupted one all along. But then you look at those luscious lips parted as he sleeps and –

Taking a deep breath, you let the sleeping dogs lie as you quietly close his night lamp and make your way back to your room.

 

 

_One day._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Passage taken from “Sigmund Freud (1856–1939).  Dream Psychology: Psychoanalysis for Beginners.  1921.”


	23. The Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams aside, reality is a completely different thing when it comes between you and the Professor. But what happens when you walk in his study changes that ebbing state of silence between the two of you. Forever.

You really didn’t have an array of _peculiar_ dreams after quite a while.

Well, considering the ton of schoolwork and research your professors have been giving you and your lot, you barely have time to even think about things at all. In fact, even Tom looks so harassed when he comes home, that he’s often too tired to prepare for dinner. At one point, you did suggest to cook, but once he saw the pile of books and papers sitting on your laptop at your designated side of his couch; he resolved to not even let you touch the stove.

For a week – that one _Hell_ week, you both had to live on takeaways.

There was one case of an infuriating paper that Tom received from a student, that he just threw it on the ground (along with his red pen), that he just went straight from the kitchen and pulled out a huge bowl and started throwing ingredients in it. He spent the next hour making brownies. Well, by the time he was done (and you’ve properly outlined the third reflection paper you’re about to make for the day), you had enough desserts to last you both during the weekend – and you were convinced that maybe Tom can sit down and start grading papers again.

This was your life with the Prof as he hailed you as some sort of a “permanent” tenant – albeit in a very subtle way and without even a verbal agreement. There are days when you wish you could at least help him out with the rent or somewhat, and you even tried to hand him money from one of your freelance works… But he just shot you a sweet smile (and one time shoved a pretzel piece gently into your mouth) in an attempt to shut you up.

You never knew how on earth you could make it up to him…

There were hectic days, and there were quiet days.

Then there was this one weird day when you both just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

You found him blankly staring at the almost burning eggs one morning that he had to violently snap out of his trance when you had to sneak in beside him to start turning the sunny-side ups with a spatula. Seemingly deep in thought as he nursed a steaming hot cup of coffee right after breakfast, he didn’t even have the agency to look in your direction the entire time you both were eating your toast. With this, you were convinced that you could possibly sneak in and claim the bathroom as your territory for fifteen minutes while he’s lost in thought.

However, the moment you walked out wearing only a towel, it seemed like the Professor has shifted onto another obsession.

“Tom,” you look at him in shock. “What are you –“

The man was literally emptying your laundry basket and was picking up _all of the items_ in it and dumping it into a laundromat bag, even if you both had an agreement that you both would do your laundry separately.

“It’s alright,” he assured you. “It’s just that I have a lecture tomorrow and I can’t do the rest on the supposed laundry day –“

You quickly bend down on the floor, picking up a pair of underwear that were clearly yours (thanks to the floral design) as you looked at how he stashed the _rest of your other clothing_ in with his. “But I was supposed to do mine tomorrow, you don’t have to –“

A form of your worst nightmares have been somewhat conceived at that moment – Was this the Professor’s way of telling you that you’ve been too shabby with your share of chores lately? Maybe your clothes were filling up the baskets that he’s now hastily volunteering to do them himself? You wished this wasn’t the case, but there’s something clearly in his mind that he’s all occupied with the laundry one day before the weekend.

“ _I told you it’s alright,_ ” he exclaimed, picking up that _thong_ from your hands, as you look at it in shock, still clutching the towel wrapped around your torso, clinging on to your body for dear life. “My own laundry pile is so small that I can fit yours right in –“

The running joke that men don’t usually separate the whites from the coloreds suddenly flashed through your head as you suddenly found yourself in a tug of war with the almost-empty laundry basket (containing the rest of your clothes), but you were somewhat sure that Tom wasn’t that clumsy.

“Come on,” you bargain with him as you kept one hand on the basket he was holding, a strained expression now forming on your newly-washed face. “It’d be such a bother if you’d lump in the rest of mine with yours. It would be embarrassing –“

He shook his head, trying to pry your hand from the basket. “Nothing about you is embarrassing, _pumpkin_ ,” he tried to say it sweetly, but he was clearly becoming _ever-so-slightly_ exasperated about your bargaining. “Now just let me take care of it and –“

You didn’t know how it happened, but he tugged at the basket that was now pressed against your chest, when it snagged the towel wrapped around your torso, causing it to fall on the ground.

 

Tom had to completely stop speaking when it happened, although his eyes said otherwise as they quickly dropped down on the floor…

However, you were overtaken by shock to even act accordingly.

 

You stood there, wet and _stark naked_ , in front of him.

 

“ _Aiugh_ …” You made a sound of distress as you slowly cover your breasts, with your other hand going straight in between your legs.

Tom clearly didn’t know where to look as he quickly knelt down (with the laundry basket still in hand) as he picked up your still damp towel, and gingerly handed it in your direction.

He was clearly trying to look at your feet, but you could just tell that those blue eyes couldn’t help but stray towards your cleavage every now and then… considering how you can barely cover your breasts with just one arm.

“I’m uh –“ he stuttered, clearly turning red. “Sorry…”

You gently take the towel off his pale hands, as you gingerly shrug as you throw it on you to cover up your front. “Well that’s something you don’t see everyday,” you say sheepishly as you nervously chuckle, ignoring the way his cheeks turned brick red. You knew you weren’t far from that shade either. “Excuse me,” you said quietly as you walked backwards to your room, slowly closing the door behind you. Luckily, you turned around and winced, wondering how you escaped that embarrassing ordeal with the Professor.

Little did you know how his eyes lingered over the wet spot you just vacated in the hallway, with all your clothes still littered at this feet.

You didn’t see how those eyes slowly moved towards your door, as he parted his lips… _licking them_.

 _Yes darling_ , _it is something you don’t see everyday,_ he thought to himself as he quietly picked up one of your sleeping shirts from the floor. _But I’ve seen it all before…_

 

 

***

 

 

It was almost four-thirty in the afternoon after a _very_ exhausting day filled with lectures and recitations and presentations, and you find yourself still thinking about that _embarrassing predicament_ back at Tom’s flat as you sat underneath this giant oak tree in Campus with a select-few of your Mattie-Horrified friends (including Penny), drinking fruit-infused boba teas.

“What’s bothering you?” Lily exclaimed, almost lying down on the pavement in front of the tree. “You look perturbed about something more horrifying than Professor Cullingham’s theories…”

The truth was, despite being in the classroom for most of the day, your head was not completely in your studies at all.

Your mind lingered somewhere else…

Beyond academics and what morals and values class would dare teach a grown woman like you…

You thought about the way Tom turned red as he tried to avoid looking at your naked body.

You remember how he’d look like a salivating wolf with his tongue hanging out of his mouth once upon a time when he peeled this lace dress off your sweat-slicked body…

You wonder if this noticeable change was for better or for worse.

“I still don’t know what play I need to choose for Halloway’s presentation,” you lied, taking another sip out of your Wintermelon boba tea.

“Maybe you could ask Hiddleston,” Penny suddenly piped up, winking at you, as she stretched in her seat. “He might be able to pull out one of those ‘hidden Shakespeare monologues’ out of his secret library for you.”

The giggling surrounding the tree was enough for you to boil your chilled tea drink with annoyance.

You set down the empty plastic tea container beside you.

“That seems to be a good idea,” you pipe up, your eyes staring at that blue sky now. Suddenly, the idea of marching up to Hiddleston’s office and confronting him about that awkward sexual tension happening in the flat would definitely calm your tits down – literally. But what would you say when you get there? Are you going to scream at him? Are you going to fight him about the laundry? Are you going to ask him if he has lost sexual interest in you considering the way he responded to the sight of your naked body? Are you hoping this would end up in an angry little fuck-romp in his office?

You sneer to yourself, ignoring the chitty-chatty gossiping happening with the other girls you were with. You were partly to blame if Tom’s libido dropped out of sight for you and the contract. After all, who decided to directly shun him (sexually and emotionally) and run after the abusive little shit next door? I mean, it was nice that he’d keep you under his wing, give you food and lodging and everything – but now it seems like he’s doing it mostly out of pity. _God,_ you thought. _I hope it’s not out of pity…_

The current fear clouding your head is that the sexual nature of the contract is currently null and void.

 _But isn’t that what you wanted?!!_ That pesky voice inside your head snapped at you.

 _Yes, indeed._ That was what you wanted. You wanted “good, clean fun” – like simply doing simple chores for him and possibly providing him “chaste” services that involved your graphic design skills learned in College and a fine computer. None of the sexual innuendos involved.

 _But now I want to just fuck the Professor_ … the _one, true_ voice in your head clapped back, causing you to grit your teeth. However, the other voice inside your head keeps chanting how much you deserved this kind of torture…

You were about to believe it, if it wasn’t for your own libido.

 

 _If you want something, you’ve got to work for it_.

 

At this point, with the headache you’ve been having, you’re not even sure if Hiddleston actually said that or one of your overbearing Professors.

“That’s it,” you snap, getting on your feet as you grabbed your purse. “I’m gonna ask help from Hiddles.”

You exasperatedly get up from your seat, brushing bits of pavement off your skirt, as you attempted to ignore the catcalling from your girlfriends.

“Atta girl!”

“Yes!” You heard another voice. “You’ve got a Professor for a husband! Use your resources!”

“Shush,” you heard Penny shoot back. “She’s got strong connections now – who knows she might get Hiddleston to get Halloway to flunk us if the Missus gets mad?”

“Nah,” you heard Lily say drunkenly, as if the tea she was drinking had alcohol. “She wouldn’t be that evil…”

You roll your eyes, wave goodbye to your silly classmates, and make your way on the pathwalk towards the Humanities building.

What were you going to do when you get there – flash your tits at him? With the awkwardness of it all, this was what you knew would happen: You’d probably catch him in the middle of a conversation with another student, and you’d wait outside for thirty minutes. When you walk in, you’d be lost for words and he’d probably ask you to stay on his couch as he’d probably chat up more of his advisees, then probably ask for your input in some of the research works. Or, he’d probably strike up some chaste innocent little chat with you, discussing about what you ate for the lunch, or if you’d like another round of Chinese Takeaway for dinner.

Or maybe, you can ask help for Halloway’s stupid paper. Yeah, that seemed like a reasonable excuse to be there. As if you needed help anyway, considering that you have already decided that you’d explore “Don Quixote” or “Tosca”…

The Humanities Faculty Wing lobby was quiet when you got there.

It was almost the weekend, and your supposed Hell week was slowly winding down. Considering it was almost dusk and most students who were loitering were probably just around for late afternoon advisements with their lecturers and professors, most of the other faculty and students have gone home at this hour.

The afternoon sun was seeping through the big bay windows lining up the corridor, crisscrossing paths with your footsteps down the hall. It didn’t help that your migraine brought about the many activities you did that day was currently messing with your brain, and now it also melded with those worries about what you were really supposed to tell the Professor when you had no exact reason why you turned up at his study.

You didn’t really have the heart to bother him either… What if he was busy in the middle of an advisement session? And damn, you knew how long those meetings usually stretched out for hours sometimes… especially when you’re in charge of a group thesis. I mean, it’s great and all that you were both sort of mending your awkward relationship by being together acting as if you’re both landlord and tenant, but you weren’t sure if you were intruding in his work life as well…

Suddenly, you found yourself loitering outside his office.

Pacing back and forth in front of his door, you tried to press your ear against the surface in an attempt to try and make out a sound or if he was in the middle of a consultation. Although every time you did, you’d stop yourself, reminding how you wanted to be subtle and not creepy.

You did hear some faint sounds that did resemble his voice, and it took you at least three more minutes to make up your mind before knocking on the door.

 

 

_Knock! Knock!_

 

 

There was no response given to your gesture, but you didn’t expect one anyway. You take a deep breath before you turned the handle. You wondered what was it that made you want to be there at that exact place and time, but the only thing you could think of is that you wanted to make sure that the awkwardness between the two of you would not escalate despite that incident this morning. It was an accident, it was nobody’s fault, and you were sure you didn’t want to be on an icy footing with him considering the progress you both have made ever since you first came to somewhat settle at his flat…

For some reason, you wanted to be in his presence at that moment. Well at least, that’s what you told yourself when you were walking back and forth in front the door to his study.

Pulling back on all hesitation, you swing the door open to march into his study with a supposedly confident demeanor as you puffed out your chest and put your chin out.

 

“Tom,” you announce yourself as you entered his study, with an expression of slight urgency on your face. “We need to ta –“

 

You were suddenly interrupted by what sounded like a shriek, causing you to quickly look around if there was another person in the room, considering that the voice was too high pitched to be the Professor’s. Aghast and confused, you found no-one else, except the large high-backed swivel chair that was facing the big bay windows…

Eyes blinking twice, you quickly stop in your tracks as you watched it slowly spin around to face you, revealing a flustered-looking Professor Hiddleston, who quickly averted his eyes from your discombobulated expression as he suddenly pressed himself against his desk by rolling his office chair forwards.

Scratching your head, you look around as you close the door behind you. “What’s –“ you said as you surreptitiously eyed him, trying to figure out what was that noise you heard. “What’s going on…”

He was sweating.

He was _definitely_ sweating.

He wasn’t wearing that body-hugging waistcoat for a change, but he clearly had his dress shirt buttons loosened up all the way down where you could probably glimpse one or two chest hairs.

But given the visage that was laid out for you, you were quite sure that the Professor really wasn’t idling around his study.

“No-Nothing!” his voice was creaky as you barely noticed him fumbling for something underneath his desk. Half of your imaginative brain supposed it was a living creature, half of your brain was laughing at this adorable yet awkwardly hilarious image of your supposedly-suave and chill Professor-Friend who was caught doing _something._ “No-Nothing in particular –“

You wince, gesturing comically to a corner in the room.

“I thought I heard someone else –“ you started, an expression that is torn between a smirk and a mischievous smile was nudging the side of your mouth.

To your surprise, the Professor fumbled on his chair once, causing it to bounce as he vigorously shook his head.

“There’s no one –“ he started, voice croaking.

Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead now, as he tried to calm down his fast-paced breathing as a hand appeared from underneath the desk, clutching the edge of the table.

However, you were too busy trying to deduct something from the whole scene. “I swear it’s a female,” you uttered as you surveyed the scene, turning away from him as you looked around the room, ignoring that aghast yet pained ridiculous look on his face. “It was some sort of high pitched –“

 

You barely saw him grit his teeth.

 

He shook his head twice and clearly looked very anxious as you looked around his office, in a tone that he cannot identify if it was serious or teasing, when he was clearly in the middle of _something_.

And what pained him is that he can’t seem to see past the fact you just burst in –

When he was clearly unprepared –

And he’s clearly flustered (and yet so turned on) by the way you were smiling when you heard his voice in a different register, and that tone that seemed to tease him…

 

“I swear there is no one else in here!” He frantically exclaimed as he hunched over himself, his voice now resembling _that familiar high pitch_ you heard earlier. “It’s just me!”

 

You turn around now, clearly grinning at him as you coyly raised an eyebrow at him.

“Come on Prof,” you say, putting a hand on your waist. “You can tell me if you want to be alone with –“ You sniffed around, pretending to be a tiny fox hunting for its prey. Truth was, you did smell _something_ , although it wasn’t what you were expecting like _female cologne_ or _sugary lipstick_ … but you did smell something sweet…

You try to ignore that sickening flutter in your stomach that maybe your hunch was right – and he wasn’t alone when you thought he was.

Tom however, wasn’t doing good with masquerading the panic appearing on his face. “I swear to you,” he breathed out your name that would have had your hair on the back of your neck stand out on its ends if you weren’t busy trying to sleuth your way around the situation. “It’s not like _that!_ I –“

He wasn’t able to continue his speech at all as you unceremoniously grinned at him, pushing back all emotion, immediately shutting him up as you slightly bent over, preparing to snoop around the place.

You circled around the huge desk, wearing an expression that was half-contemplative and half-curious, with a pinch of questionable judgment thrown in it. You were intending to tease him and hilariously peek under the desk, although you swore your heart was racing wild and not willing to discover whatever he was hiding…

And to your surprise? Empty.

Nothing.

If there was a student there, _or anything at all_ , they might have sneaked out from somewhere (like under the table for instance) and went through the door – but you were sure that you’d find them despite how roomy and spacious the Professor’s study was.

But just as you have been imagining things, now you found yourself ridiculously caught in a situation where you’re acting like a jealous partner…

When the truth is, you’re not.

 

However, if there was one thing you discovered, aside from the way he actually looks _adorable_ with his eyeglasses sitting askew on his nose, with his curls completely dangling out of control amidst a flushed face… was that the Professor was trying to swivel his legs away in your direction, seemingly hiding something in between his legs.

 

“ _What were you doing?_ ” you utter now, completely confused, your eyes straying over the way he cupped his two large hands over his lap.

“Nothing of n –“ You hear his voice break as he winced, a giant shiver went through his supposedly lanky body when you took a closer step towards him. “N-note.”

He quickly fumbled, as you saw how red he was in the face – as you dared to look down at his hands…

And realized that he can barely hide that swollen engorged cock with a purpling head.

 

You gasped and turned around, quickly facing the door.

 

“Oh my God –“

He winced and yet you didn’t see it, but he did grit his teeth in shame. “This is so improper –“ he blubbered as he shifted his seat away from you, facing an angle where you couldn’t see him exposed. “I’m so sorry – I really didn’t mean to –“

However, you weren’t listening to him.

You were facing the door, holding the hand up to your mouth, seemingly looking shocked and appalled. If Tom could see your face, he would have even been more ashamed and he probably have zipped up, excused himself, and hurriedly left the room to chastise himself. But what he would have missed was that small sure smile hidden underneath your fingers.

 _He was touching himself_ , you realized.

After all the dreams, after all the insanity you thought you were going through – _Hysteria even_ , you thought. You realize that _maybe you weren’t imagining those nights after all_.

Yes, the Professor is human. He does have needs – and they be sexual.

But after all the signs? After all the premonitions and the visions –

You couldn’t jump the gun and _guess_ _who_ was he thinking about the whole time – but you were quite sure that maybe those sounds of passion that seeped through your brain as you slept couldn’t have been fabricated.

 

He is human.

 

He has wants and needs.

 

And you were sure that this time – _he wanted them at that very moment._

 

Your face shifted from flabbergasted to mischievous, as you had to turn around and face the window in an attempt to hide an impish smile that threatened to flash through your lips. It was half a premonition and all parts somewhat predictable, considering that you _could not stop dreaming about the Professor touching himself_ a few days ago.

 

_Suddenly, everything made sense._

 

But of course, you wouldn’t tell him that.

You try to turn and face him – although you couldn’t help but feel pity for the grown man because of how reddish his cheeks were and that shame seeping onto his expression… You would admit how cute he was though, with his lips slightly pouty and those eyes full of regret…

“Jesus Tom,” you tried to hide the laughter in your voice. You were almost successful. “I’m sorry for barging on your privacy –“

You turned around and faced the door, glad he couldn’t see your face because you couldn’t help smiling now. Unfortunately, you didn’t see the pain that now mixed with the shame in his eyes, as he clearly identified the mirth in your voice.

As much as you didn’t intend to – the poor man felt ridiculed.

He suddenly felt so small and so… _embarrassed_ for supposedly doing “indecent” acts on campus grounds… As if he hasn’t done so before…

 

But this act was so private…

 

So intimate…

 

That he just couldn’t help it and hide it –

 

And it happened to be you who caught him.

He had been treating your conscience and your presence as sacred, trying not to admonish the supposed “indecency” and “vulgarity” that he believes to have impressed on you during the start of the contract. You would have told him that you noticed it – how he shied away from _pushing for sex_ ever since that night when you refused his soufflé and when he cried in his sleep. But as much as this issue has not been resolved, Tom had taken extra care not to remind you of his own earthly needs, considering that it was another man’s indulgence that caused you pain.

You were grateful. Absolutely grateful.

You just didn’t tell him that _you wanted things to change_.

However, no word or action would have supposedly remedied the pain reflected on his face as he mistakenly identified your action of facing the door and approaching it (upon finding him in that compromised stance) as something of repulsion to the act you caught him in.

“You know what,” you spoke to the oak door now, unable to face him since you were sure that the sheepish smile on your face and the way you bit your lip might completely offend him. “I’ll just leave you to your vices –“

You swore you heard him sadly sigh your name in some sort of a hopeless apology when you placed a hand on the door. You bit your lip as you seemed to be prepped to turn it –

When you locked it instead.

 

“Or maybe,” you quietly turned to face him now, your back against the oak wood. “ _You’d want a little help?_ ”

 

Tom sat there, cheeks still red, with his face frozen in confusion.

 

“I beg your pardon –“

 

His voice was lost in his throat when he watched you lick your lips as you suddenly move towards him, surety in your steps as you suavely circled the desk and pushed his chair against the bay window, the soft leather hitting the wooden frames.

You watched him stiffen up as you drop your gaze – now coming face to face with that glorious shaft, no longer concealed by his big hands.

You swore you saw a shiver go through the Professor as you bent your body, one hand clamping on the leather surface of the swivel office chair, as you leaned closer to his face, your eyes now fixed against his blue ones.

“I asked if you needed a little help with –“ You pause, the words caught in your throat as you pressed a hand against his chest.

You swore you felt the swivel chair jerk backwards as his body shifted when your hand slowly moved down those firm abdominals, before encircling the base of his cock, gently wrapping your fist around it.

 

“ _This._ ”

 

The way he almost gasped into your mouth, considering how close in proximity your faces were, was so delicious.

A few days ago you knew you dreamt about this – convinced that you don’t know how soon could you take action on your contract duties once more.

Now you sit there, your prize in your hand, as you watched the man who penned the peak of your sexuality with that damned agreement, frozen in shock with what you just had the courage to do.

And it didn’t help that you can feel his quickened heartbeat through that meaty shaft that is throbbing in your grip.

 

 _Gasp –_ “I –“ _Gasp…_ “Uhm – I –“

 

The man gritted his teeth when you tightened your grip, and slowly moved your fist up his shaft. It was a surprise that you couldn’t crack through his shock-induced muteness as those blue eyes still stared at you in wonder that you had to ease a cry from his mouth when you moved your thumb to trace the side of his crown, only to circle it around the tip and slip it down his frenulum.

 

“Ahhhhh –“ Tom had to break eye-contact with you as he gasped, the gesture clearly sending a shiver down his body.

 

You lick your lips once more, eyeing his parted mouth.

“I could stop,” you whispered, your lips now ghosting his. “If it’s making you uncomfortable –“

To your surprise, Tom opened his eyes, with tears lining up the corners. “It’s not making me uncomfortable!” He strained to whisper his answer. “I swear! Now please –“

There was no hesitation when you took those lips into your mouth.

 

_Good._

_So good._

It felt so good.

 

You needn’t note that those lips tasted like honey – I mean, _you already knew_. After all, the man was always eating something sweet… if he weren’t making them.

Those eyelashes fluttered against yours as he turned his head, letting you in deeper, as you dared to slip your tongue inside his mouth, tasting more of him. You’ve been on abstinence for so long – _you were going to savour this first kiss after the first snow of spring has melted._

Leaning into him, you felt him groan inside your mouth as you began to bring your hand up and down on that meaty cock you were still gripping. Those two big hands that were earlier clutching the armrests of the chair were now holding your forearms, kneading against the fabric of your blouse, urging you to continue – to do more.

No inhibitions now, you felt your mouth water, causing your tongue’s probing to become even slicker inside his mouth.

You viciously turn your head as you move your lips against his wanting ones, trying to take in as much as you could. You also gently suckle on his curious tongue, seemingly giving him a preview of what could happen next --

He groaned, and you can feel the reverberation against the walls of your mouth.

You released his mouth with a smack, and you barely noticed this line of saliva breaking when you disengaged from his still quivering mouth.

 

Turning to look at him, you were greeted with a visage slowly being lit by the waning sunset.

 

His eyes were all watery now, and his expression was so acid – as if he was almost catatonic. And yet with the way his glistening lips are parted – you knew he wanted more.

You quickly steal a wet kiss, sucking in those lips as if they were the first cherry on top of your Midori Sour. Before he can retort however, you already had your lips clamped on that stubborn jaw… slowly sucking away down that craned neck.

“Aaaaaghh!” He groaned slowly as you gently sank your teeth against an exposed collarbone.

Before he can retort however, you already found yourself almost sitting on top of his parted strong thighs as you wrestled with his almost open shirt, snapping the buttons apart as you bit and sucked while working your way down. You didn’t have to look up to see that pained expression of strained pleasure on his face, but you swore he cried out when you wrapped your lips and teeth around a particular ab.

 

“P-Pumpkin –“

 

His voice was already croaking when you got to his Adonis belt, a tongue slipping against the deepened groove in his muscle, tasting his musk in the form of glorified salt sitting on the tip of your tongue.

A keening sound escaped his throat when you followed his treasure trail – only to stop at his unzipped slacks…

Finding yourself face to face with that talented, purpling girth once more.

After everything you’ve been through, after those many days swearing off sex, and after so many days enjoying a wonderful shared emotional intimacy with Tom without having to deal with physical requirements of each other’s wanton thirsts; you’ve never felt so obscenely hungry for something you actually swore off before.

 _‘Control’_ _my ass_ , you remembered your first words of supposed “relief” when the contract started, as you licked your lips, positioning your hands on the Professor’s bare hips. It wasn’t like the time when you were blindly needing sexual contact after having ingested more alcohol than you wanted to. Of course this doesn’t undermine the bashful little encounters with the Professor that you considered as pure ever since you became a ‘tenant’ of his flat. This isn’t about returning the favor either, or even comforting someone who has been dearly kind to you.

 

 _This is about something deeper than that_ , you thought as you looked into those bespectacled watery blue eyes. _Something more than that._

 

Stuck in the middle of your thoughts, you were suddenly greeted by this soft gesture that the Professor did with the back of his hands, running them against your cheek.

“Darling,” he said in soft slow gasps, his breath hitching every time you try to ghost your lips on top of his cock throbbing in front of your face. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

 _Seriously Hiddleston?_ Thank God you didn’t say that out loud, though the frustration did show in your face as you raised an eyebrow at him. _You’ve been jerking off all on your own and you wouldn’t even want someone to help? Someone like **me**?!_

You couldn’t help but wonder if he _did_ lose interest in you… albeit in a sexual manner.

Which explains why he was so sweet whenever you’d encounter each other in the flat… and yet he wouldn’t dare force himself on you.

 

“Professor, let me ask you something –” you said softly, letting soft gusts of breath escape your mouth, touching his sensitive shaft, causing him to shift and shiver every few moments.

“A serious question,” you state now, as you sat up properly and refrained from using erotic advances on specific parts of his body – albeit never moving your mouth away from the crown of his girth.

“Does this –“ Your eyes flit downwards, indicating to the proximity of your mouth to his shaft. “ _Disgust you?_ ”

For a moment, you saw panic and confusion cloud the Professor’s eyes as he tried to straighten up on his chair, despite being in this _supposedly wonderful_ position with your face almost framed in between his thighs.

“Wh—“ He furrowed his noble brow. “Wh—Why would you ask that?” There seemed to be a bit of dejection reflected in his voice.

You made sure to stick out your lower lip while frowning.

“This morning,” you recalled, letting your eyes wander someone else, albeit accessing a painful memory. “The towel.”

Panic now was indeed shrouding the Professor’s expression.

“I-I –“ He was stuttering now, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek and the other stroking the side of your neck. “How could I be disgusted?! You kn-know I’ve seen it all before and I couldn’t help but gander at you when I haven’t seen it _all_ for so long –“

 

That’s when the cock throbbed towards your face – this time clearly brushing against the surface of your lower lip.

And just like a magnet – you ended up wrapping your hands against the base, causing you to press the tip of his girth against the inside of your lower lip… as you gently darted your tongue out, following the trail of how the cock bounced against your mouth.

That’s when Tom let out this haunting moan.

 

By the time he got over his preliminary trance – those misty blue eyes came across yours, and he saw this mischievous expression on your smiling face.

“I-I-I—“ He stammered, trying to stop himself from thrusting his cock right into your waiting mouth, considering that your lips were almost pressed against it. “I j-just want to make sure you’re not doing this out of obligation, _Pumpkin –_ “

You had to make this noise by pulling your lower lip against your teeth, making this wet, lascivious sucking sound.

Once more, the cock throbbed towards your face.

Tom clearly was having a hard time holding back. “D-Do you really want to do this?!”

It reminded you of that time when you “managed” to tie him up against his bedpost.

 

“Yes,” you said without batting an eyelash, your decision final.

 

He gasped when you took the tip in.

You weren’t even fully sucking yet, just softly closing the edges of your wet mouth around the crown – but as you looked up at him; you saw him biting his lip too hard, as if they were to bleed.

Forming your mouth in a soft-clustered “O”, you began to rotate the head against its edges, slightly getting it wet as you slowly began to savor the taste of precum slowly lining the inside of your mouth. You can hear him breathing shallowly, the sensation slowly beginning to settle, as you can feel his body throbbing in conjuncture to his strapping girth.

“God, you’re so –“ he nervously ran a hand through his hair, as his breath misted up his eyeglasses. “So –“

Your eyes met his with his cock nestled against the inside of your lower lip.

Tom dreamily gasped out his words. “ _Hot_ …”

There was something about the way he looked at you at that moment…

As if he were in a daze… a dream… a misty-edged fairytale where lust is equivalently translated into love and butterflies flew in your stomach for twenty-four hours in a day…

As much as you were enjoying the attention, you can’t have him romantically looking at you like that.

 

Not now when you feel so dirty.

 

Not _yet_.

 

“Wait, I’ve got an idea –“ You say with an impish smile, enough to cream him if he wasn’t so paralyzed by desire, as you raise your head from his crotch so you could face him again.

He watches you as if he was in a trance as you grab his face once more, sticking your tongue as deep as you could in his mouth, as he felt his body weaken as you began to generate more saliva in your mouth, causing it to flood the sides of your lips still attached to his.

You disengage suddenly, causing the drool to slither in between your mouths – only to be caught by both of your open palms. He watched you in complete awe and amazement as you foamed your mouth once more – causing more of it to languidly drip in your palm.

Without batting an eyelash, you move closer to his face again – nudging his lips with your tongue.

“ _Spit in my hand, Professor._ ”

You saw those eyes flutter, as you swore you felt a thick appendage twitch against your thigh.

Obedient as he was, he made his mouth water as well – letting it slip past his parted lips and onto your waiting hand.

Delighted with the seemingly sensual act, you smiled at him as you poked your tongue against his mouth again, before cupping your hands and moving away from his face.

You saw his cock twitch as you held your combined spittle-filled hand above his twitching shaft.

“Just to spice things up a bit –“ You say with a smile.

You felt those thighs shake when you brought your hands down and soaped that purpling cock with the concoction.

_He cursed._

 

He actually cursed and bent his body when you gripped his cock with your soapy wet hand filled with spit. You couldn’t help but smile up at him as he thrust involuntarily in your hands, watching the crown peek through your linked slippery fingers, seemingly hiding from your predatory mouth.

 _I never realized how truly thick and long it was_ , you thought as you marveled at that meaty appendage that was nestled in your dripping hand. Maybe you were too busy trying to distract yourself from this affair that you didn’t realize how you were actually stopping yourself from cumming ten times over with this kind of girth…

And it just seemed to grow thicker by the minute in your hands.

“You really are happy to see me, huh,” You seemed to talk to that purpling head that was subtly and slowly fucking your hand; all soaked with natural lube.

There seemed to be a keening voice that escaped your Professor-Friend.

“Well,” you say as-a-matter-of-factly. “I’m not the only one happy to see you too –“

You poked your tongue out and licked quickly at the oozing tip.

A violent shake went through the body that was crumpled in a heap of pleasure just underneath you. The swivel chair also reacted in the same vicious manner, rocking forwards and then settling backwards as Tom hopelessly clutched at the armrests – not daring to grab at your tresses just yet.

Not yet.

 

“ _Pumpkin –_ “ you actually heard him growl in between labored gasps. “I’m begging you –“

 

You comically raise an eyebrow at him.

“Impatient much?!” you shot back.

He shot you an expression that was a cross between hunger, fury, and desperation.

You answered back with a sweet smile.

Before he can even retort again, you swirled your tongue around his cock’s crown… before causing him to cry out as you took the whole tip in the warmth of your waiting mouth.

 

_Fuck!_

 

He gasped as if he was drowning and in dire need of air.

Grasping the armrests tightly enough to leave marks, he watched with bated breath as you gave him your full attention…

Without exerting too much effort from your hands slipping up and down his length, you gently moved his girth against your mouth as you gently sucked on the head. Hiding your teeth away, you didn’t restrict your tongue at all as you pull your lips up and down the crown of his cock. However, you didn’t dare go past the frenulum, albeit moving your head once in a while, causing him to grit his teeth every time and hopelessly moan with eyes shut closed.

Then you dared to try to push the tip of his shaft inside your mouth… repeatedly having it hit the wall of your throat.

 

That’s when he stuttered a name.

_Your whole name._

 

Surprised, you looked up at him, the tip of his length still in your mouth. Seeing the strain on his face, he tried to sit properly since he was starting to slip down the surface of the chair, with his sweat and your movements pushing him from his original sitting position.

“Please – Stop,” he seemed to beg, despite gritting his teeth. “Let me just –“

He tried to tangle his fingers in your hair and pull you off his throbbing shaft, but he didn’t expect to you to suckle hard on his head before releasing it with a pop.

“Agh!” He moaned, this time sliding his back upwards against the leather chair – the sensations reverberating vigorously through his sensitive body.

By the time he opened his eyes, he came face to face with your adorable little pout, decorating your precum-tainted lips.

 _“_ It’s just not fair you know,” you mutter, a bit of pain seeping through your voice as you continued running both your hands up and down his thickening cock. Seeing how it was starting to slightly dry up in your hands (despite of the now free-flowing sweet juice coming from the open tip), you tear your eyes from him for a while so you could wet his cock with your spit. “To just to ask me to stop…”

He thrust upwards for a moment as you began to soap his thickness with his warm saliva once more.  

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” you whisper, your lips still close to his seeping head. “And you have no idea…”

There was glint of surprise that appeared in his eyes, as he came to terms with the fact that you _wanted him_ … that you were _wanting_ him. Just the thought of it caused his cock to throb twice in your hand. The involuntary response was delightful; you would have to admit as you smiled to yourself.

“So please,” you request, tracing the tips of your lips against his sweet-tasting crown. “Just sit back and let me enjoy this.”

You dart your tongue out in an attempt to wet your lips, but did end up hitting his cock again in the process. You wouldn’t say that you didn’t intend that.

 

“Let’s _both_ enjoy _this.”_

 

Before he could retort – you tilted your head again, and continued vigorously suckling that healthy jutting cock with all your mouth and tongue.

This time you let your tongue go a little bit out of control.

By restricting the opening of your lips and sucking in your cheeks, you began to bob your head every once in a while to surprise him, going down low enough to wet half-way down the shaft. Retaining this motion and formation, going back to the tongue – you let it loose by licking round and round the hole on top of the head, causing it to seep more precum with every circulation. You’d actually commend yourself with this feat, considering the way you had to hold your cheeks in the whole time every other feature of your mouth and tongue had another designated thing to do.

Tom on the other hand was beside himself –

With his eyeglasses misting up so bad, he had to wrench it from his head and fling it on the table. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands now – Does he try to grip you by the hair? Or does he clamp them down his armrests and deteriorate its state further? He is also starting to lose control of his hip movements, each subtle gentle thrust daring to turn into a full wave – a wave that will crest and end up lodging that whole girth in your esophagus.

And yet despite all of this sensations, you’ve got to commend Tom for his restraint.

The poor man was really holding back.

Because knowing him in the past? He would have just grabbed your head and fucked your mouth.

The thing is – that was what you wanted at that exact moment.

 

Releasing your hands from sliding up and down his length, you also managed to pull your mouth away, causing some of your saliva to drip down his girth. You looked up to find that an expression of bewilderment appeared on his face again – seemingly asking why you’d dare to stop. You actually feel sorry for him – it seems like this interruption of yours seem to have thrown him out of his rhythm.

That was when you found his body going limp when you went lower… and gently took a sac inside your mouth.

 

“P-P-P-P-Pumpkin –“

 

You softly hummed, letting the vibration course through his body, as he hopelessly stretched himself against the swivel chair. Knowing that there is no going back once you take a man’s sac inside your mouth, the reward in return for this is to watch your beloved Professor-Friend squeal and gasp like a wanton whore, scratching his voice to shit.

 

“D-Darling –“ he gasped. “Y-You c-can’t – _Oh God!_ ”

 

Releasing the sac with the tip of your tongue left against the surface, you drag your tongue towards the other one as you opened your mouth wide, taking it all in. The poor man had to bend over himself, letting out this strained feral groan, as you can clearly feel his precum leaking through your fingers are you continued to stroke his cock the whole time you were praising his balls with your mouth.

By the time you released the other sac, you found him gripping your tresses once more.

He tries to grab your head and push you back on him, but you manage to hit both his wrists with the back of his hand as you push him down by the hips.

 

“Fuck my mouth.” You exclaimed as you clutched at his torso, baring your teeth.

 

As much as you were in the lead, you can’t have him ruin this _whole_ service-laden gesture from you by losing control himself (as always) and fucking you on the table like before.

“I can’t –“ he growled, a bit of confusion mixed with his aggressive retort. “I want to fuck _you_ –“ He gasped, furrowing his eyebrows. “Make you scream –“

You tried not to be swayed the way he clamped his fingers around your tresses, trying to take control. Or how his body shifted and you can see his skin pulling over his muscles… You tried to stay on track. You tried to keep yourself focused.

“Hey! My mouth is still mine, right?” You say playfully, a smile spreading across your not-so-innocent lips. “Don’t you like how it feels?”

You heard a strained gasp in reply as you felt his thighs quiver underneath your arms.

You couldn’t help but grin at him as you licked your lips again. “ _So you can still cum in me – it’s still the same._ ”

The playful expression disappeared from your face as you foamed up your mouth again, preparing to suck him all in once more.

 

“Don’t worry,” you whisper, never tearing your eyes from his. “ _I’ll swallow.”_

 

You saw those blue eyes cloud with wanton desperation. You knew what usually would happen next – he’d overpower you, grab your body and push it against the surface of the desk. And then you’d get rutted in so hard that you couldn’t breathe.

You needed to take action before anything goes out of plan… So you swallowed his cock again.

And pushed your mouth all the way to the base.

The noises you made with your mouth were so obscene. But it was nothing to the shout that escaped Tom’s mouth as he threw his head back and threw one hand to grip the back of his chair, with the other still tangled in your hair.

He let out another cry when you dragged your tight mouth up his shaft – only to slam it back down again. As you slowly began to find a rhythm to match your regulated breathing, your Professor on the other hand lost all inhibitions and began to just moan and cry with every movement of your mouth. Sadly, you couldn’t see the way he just pointed his chin upwards, eyes completely shut as he moaned his desire off, making you wonder if anyone from the hall could even hear you. Thank God, it was after school hours.

Surely, you knew that you were doing a good job when he began to attempt raise his hips from the chair, despite being stuck on the leather upholstery. And every time he did so, he’d hit the back of your throat – causing you to make this gurgling choking sound, that only pushed him closer and closer towards the edge.

You wouldn’t say you were enjoying this too… as you let your hands roam on his exposed skin, first trying to get a hold of his hips by pinning them down on the chair in an attempt to stop him from completely choking you. But with the way his hips were starting to jerk out of control, first you found yourself gripping his back… hands gripping the flesh just above his firm ass.

And then you made the mistake of letting out this loud obscene _slurp_ —causing the man to open his eyes… _and growl_.

Next thing you knew, his big hands were fastened on your head.

Guiding it upwards, you found your tight lips secured with just the head inside your mouth, as you began to salivate all over it once more. And then, with one loud grunt – he sent you crashing down, causing you nuzzle his pubes with your nose.

 

 _Sluuuurp_.

 

This took you by surprise and you ended up releasing your hands from his back – as you found yourself gripping the edge of the leather chair just behind his ass.

With the influence of his hands, he began to bob you up and down his shaft. You were starting to lose control of yourself now too, as you let your tongue slip out, brushing repeatedly against the underside of his cock. But with the way you were salivating, soaping up his shaft – it was so easy for him to slide you up and down on it, with his fingers still tangled in your hair.

You dared to look up at him, looking all strained and under his power with his hands over your head. What you saw would have caused you to cream your panties as well –

His jaw… it was his firm jaw, locked and tight as he grit his teeth.

His eyebrows were furrowed enough to concentrate on “goading” you to fuck his cock with his mouth, exerting enough force to keep you going, but ensuring that you wouldn’t choke on that thick girth at all.

 

But it was those blue eyes… those steely blue eyes.

 

They read of fierce desire…

 

And you knew that if he still had the power after this little “romp” of yours in his study – you knew you wouldn’t escape being drilled hard against any surface he wishes.

 

But isn’t that what you wanted?

 

You didn’t know how much it turned him on to see you straining to look at him as you slowly egged him towards the edge of his own climax… as you slowly hummed against his cock… with your tongue still licking the underside of his shaft…

And that was when his hips started to thrust upwards.

 

_Sluuuuurp! Ochh!_

 

It was probably a total of five thrusts. At one point, he managed to lodge the head of his cock far too down your throat – causing you to emit this extremely vulgar, wet, choking noise.

It was probably too much for the Professor.

In one swift stroke he suddenly stiffened up, and you felt something sweet and thick slosh down your throat.

Your hands quickly released the back of the chair, only to grab at his ass when you realized that he has actually stood up from his sitting position, bending over you as he filled your mouth up with his juices. He was still thrusting – albeit the cresting waves of his hips slowing down as he held your head, emptying himself in you.

Looking up you found an expression of desperate release etched on that handsome face, with his eyes closed as you slowly felt the grip loosen on your hair.

Letting out one last choking sound – you manage to swallow most of the deluge from his cock, before letting some of it seep through the sides of your mouth and on your tongue.

You didn’t realize were salivating so hard that you can still feel the walls of your mouth dripping… with some of it lining his glistening shaft.

He fell back on his seat, clearly trying to catch his breath – exhausted, as your head followed his direction, your mouth still attached to his cock. You can feel him breath and throb against you, as you closed your eyes, trying to remember the taste of him… as you felt him slowly softening inside your mouth.

Slowly and painstakingly, you retract your mouth… and gently pulled yourself off that purpling, throbbing girth, releasing that delicious head with one loud satisfying pop.

He looked completely wasted and catatonic, his nose up in the air as you watched that bare chiseled chest peeking through his sweat-stained dress shirt, rising up and down. Veins were clearly visible on the sides of his neck, although it was beautiful to see his muscles slowly relax… like a ripple going through his living skin.

Amazed at this spectacle, the Professor’s pure desire at its finest – you weren’t aware of the smile on your cum-splattered face as you smoothed your hands on his bare thighs, with his slacks now pooling around his feet.

He then turned to look at you with those spent, hooded-blue eyes.

You didn’t know what came over him.

Suddenly, all the blue in those beautiful eyes were gone – swallowed out by those dilated pupils.

Two strong hands grabbed your head, as you suddenly felt a tongue assaulting your mouth. You just couldn’t believe what just happened as you knelt there in complete surprise – Tom just managed to slurp and suck all the remaining cum from your mouth, his tongue sliding against the insides of your cheeks and invading the depth of your mouth, lapping up any remaining trace of his DNA.

He then viciously released your quivering lips with a loud, angry pop.

You were about to ask what warranted you this erotic gesture – when you felt your arms pinned together as he hauled you up on your feet with all of his remaining strength, pressing you against his partially naked torso.

 

He unceremoniously cleared his desk with one full swipe of his arm.

 

And that was when you knew – that despite situations being predictable, this private session wasn’t over yet. Pushing you against the desk and pressing you against the surface, your face was once again assaulted with hungry and angry kisses – making you wonder where he was getting all this energy when you just managed to drain him of all that with that wonderful blow job earlier.

But then you realize that maybe you were wrong when you felt that cock stirring against your thigh once more –

A frantic gasp escaped your lips as you managed to disengage from his feral kisses, trying to come up for air.

For a moment, you saw Tom attempting to lunge against you again as he used his weight to pin you down… when he suddenly paused, those blue eyes becoming clear from his wanton possession as his pupils began to ever so slightly constrict back to its original size.

Catching your breath, you realize that he has stopped completely… and you found yourself face to face with a worried and calculating expression… those juicy lips parted, seemingly questioning you…

And here you were so ready to be pounded on the desk once more.

 

“What’s wrong?” You found your clear voice asking him as he was sprawled on top of you, one hand cradling your head and another affixed to your almost-bare hip.

 

It was a few precious moments that you were caught in this silent body language where in Tom was seemingly trying to gauge you. There was something in his eyes – lust and desire, definitely… but there was something else. And you were quite sure that there was a message he was trying to convey…

You were so sure he wanted to continue with what he was originally planning to do, and his suddenly-throbbing shaft again was a testament to it. But why suddenly stop?

“I—“ He began to stutter, as the red flush on his face that was originally attributed to the orgasm he just conceived earlier began to manifest over something else. “I – Uhm –“

You blinked questioningly at him, still stuck in that wanton position underneath him. But you suddenly surprised yourself with this tender gesture, as you gently touched his cheek… moving it upwards to brush away an errant curl.

He parted his lips, and then licked it again. He tried to avoid your gaze for a few moments, a complete contrast to that Adonis who was graciously receiving and suddenly ready to return the favor. You find him suddenly transformed into this shy school boy who seemed as if he wanted to ask –

“I…” he bit his lip, trying to find footing around his words. “I think I never took you out on a proper date…”

You raise an eyebrow.

You were so close to breaking your sexual abstinence with this Professor who’s literally a reincarnation of Eros, and he’s here talking about “properly going out” –

“I—“ he started, completely bashful now. “I know this wonderful Thai cuisine just around the corner near our block… I was hoping you’d go out with me?”

You… you just couldn’t answer right away.

When the contract was new, this act of tenderness and this gesture of considering the full cycle of intimacy was completely rare with the Professor. As much as now it seemed to be an alien custom to you after everything you both have been doing – skipping the courtship and going straight to the sexual intimacy… you couldn’t help but admit that you actually liked this seemingly romantic side to Tom.

He was after all, always been a romantic.

Seeing that apprehensive expression on his boyish face, seemingly wondering if pausing in the middle of sex to ask you a question was a bad idea or not… You realize that shouldn’t keep him waiting.

“Sure,” you say softly, a small smile forming on your flushed face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. I need help. The next chapter has been rewritten over and over again. I'm in a rut for months. 
> 
> Please help me out and tell me, remind me what you love about this fic. Just to keep me going <3 
> 
> Not begging for compliments, I just need to reawaken my love for the Prof and his favorite student.


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